She _would_ marry Garth. She'd marry him soon--_much_ sooner than Tony meant--as soon as a license could be got. She'd send for Garth and tell him so. She'd say _she_ knew no more about marriage licenses than dog licenses. That sounded rather smart! He must find out and arrange everything. The quicker the better. Tony shouldn't hear a thing about it till too late. Then he would be _sick_! And in this way _he_ would seem to be the jilted one. Splendid! His trip to England would be torture. And she'd make it a little worse by flirting with Garth under his nose before he sailed! It was scarcely light when she settled all this. Then she could hardly wait till it was time to get up. Strange! To many people this would be a day like any other! To Céline, to Zélie Marks--ah, _Zélie Marks_! The eyes of Marise flashed like blue stars in the dawn. CHAPTER XIII "CAN YOU KEEP A SECRET?" Miss Marks was punctual that morning, as usual. She looked like a creature of moods and storms and sudden revolts, but her behaviour as a typist-stenographer belied her appearance as a woman. Not only was she always on time, but she was invariably correct in her deportment. Yes, "deportment" was the word! No other would have enough dignity to express Miss Marks. As a rule, Mrs. Sorel came into the salon soon after the arrival of the secretary, leaving no idle interval after the preparation of paper, pencils, and sorting of letters. Zélie Marks remembered only one occasion when Miss Sorel had appeared before her mother. That was the day when she was anxious to find a certain letter in the bulky pile of correspondence, and make sure that no eye spied it save her own. Zélie happened to be thinking of that affair to-day, when the door of Marise's bedroom opened and a Vision showed itself upon the threshold. "Good morning, Miss Marks," it said. "Good morning, Miss Sorel," echoed its paid employée. The said employée would not have been human had she never felt qualms of envy of the Vision. Sometimes it was merely a negative discomfort like a grumbling tooth that doesn't quite ache. Sometimes it was sharply positive; and this was such a moment. Queer! Zélie always envied Marise most when she saw the girl in what Mrs. Sorel called "undress uniform." There were few young women even among wage-earners who couldn't make a fairly brave show in a neat tailor gown or a "Sunday best" for Church Parade. But only the Truly Rich could have such heavenly "undies," and only the young and lovely--lovely of figure as well as of face--could look in them more thrilling than the wondrous wax ladies in shop windows, or the willowy dreams of line-artists in fashion magazines.