About two a.m. Marise agreed to Mary's many-times-reiterated wish that she would "think things over"; and promptly fell into a sleep so sound that she looked like a beautiful dead girl. Miss Marks was sent away next morning by Mrs. Sorel, because "My daughter has had a bad night, and mustn't be disturbed." It was not until eleven o'clock that Marise waked suddenly in her darkened room, as if a voice had called her name. She sat up in bed, dazed. Whose voice was it? Or was it only a voice in a dream? Thinking back, it came to her that she had been dreaming of John Garth--"Samson." With an "Oh!" that revolted against life as it must be lived, she flung herself down again, and remembered everything. For an hour her body lay motionless: but mind and soul moved far. When Mums tapped lightly at the door, and peeped in to inquire, "Do you feel like waking up, pet, and having me bring you a cup of delicious hot coffee? It's twelve o'clock!" she answered quietly, "Yes, I've been awake a long time. I'd love some coffee." Mary brought it herself--and a covered plate of buttered toast. She asked no question except, "Is your head better, darling?" until pale, composed Marise had bathed, and been dressed with the aid of Céline. Then Mums chirped cheerfully, "Well, what are you going to do to-day? Anything important?" "It may be important," said Marise. "I don't know yet--till I've talked with him. It depends on what he says. He may say nothing. He may just bash me over the head and stalk away. He'd be capable of that." "What do you mean?" Mary implored. "Are you speaking of Tony?" "Oh no! Of a very different man. Of Major Garth." "Marise! What are you going to do?" The girl turned from her dressing-table to face her mother. "What you've been goading me on, all last night, to do. What I shall be perfectly mad if I _do_ do! Now, please, don't say any more--unless you want me to scream. I'm keeping myself calm. I'd better stay calm--till after." Mary's breast heaved. She breathed back her emotions, as one checks a cough. "You--talk the way you sometimes do after a dress rehearsal!" she tried to laugh. "Before a big first night." "That's the way I feel," said Marise. "Like before the biggest first night that ever was. Or before the Judgment Day." She knew that John Garth was staying at the Belmore. She had seen that item in the papers--had seen it in the same day's papers which had informed Garth that Miss Sorel was an actress. The girl began a letter, but tore it up. Then she thought of the telephone. Two minutes later she heard Garth's voice: "Hello! who is this talking?" "Marise Sorel--calling you from the Plaza. Can you come over?" "Yes. When?" "Now." "I'll be there as soon as a taxi can bring me." "Good!" Yet she knew that it was far from good. * * * * * "The Spring Song!--The Spring Song!"