"Yes," the girl flashed back, "I would care to, if that suits you. Because, you see, I want it to be done and over before--_anybody knows_. Except my mother, of course. She won't like the idea one bit. But I'll make her come round." "I see," said Garth. And he did see. He saw very clearly. But he could not understand, all in a moment like this, why she wanted to marry him without letting Severance know beforehand. It didn't _seem_, just on the face of it, a good sign for Severance. Still, he couldn't be sure. Women were supposed to be very subtle, and he'd never had much time even to try and analyse the strange creatures. Except Mothereen (he'd named her that because she was Irish), the little old woman who'd given him the only mothering he remembered, Garth had never got very near any woman's mentality. He braced himself, and asked, "How soon can you be ready?" "In an hour--in _less_ than an hour. As soon as I've told Mums," Marise spoke quickly and thickly, over a beating heart. Each moment excited her more and more. She felt herself the heroine of a thrilling drama--a drama where she had to play the star part without any rehearsals, and without ever having read further than the first scene of the first act. It might be a drama of "stunts," too--as the movie people said: dangerous stunts, where she might have to walk a tightrope with a deep drop underneath. But she wasn't afraid. She would not have thrown over the part now if some other easier one with the same ending had offered. She didn't recognise herself as she was to-day. But she did not care. It was all Tony's fault. Or perhaps a little Mums' fault too. "And afterwards?" she heard Garth quietly asking. "Oh!... Well, the first thing is the fun of surprising everyone. After that--well, I haven't exactly thought yet." "You had better think," he said. "Much better." Marise glanced at the back of Zélie's head, then met Miss Marks's eyes in the mirror. "We'll talk it over presently with Mums. She's so _wise_--and always knows how to do the right thing." The "correct thing" would have been more apt an expression, but Marise wasn't thinking of the fine shades. She was thinking just then more of Zélie; and the thought of Zélie made her blush, she didn't quite see why! "Miss Marks," she said, "I may want you by and by to take down several notes for me, letters to some of my most intimate friends, to be sent after--after the wedding. But at this particular instant I fancy there's nothing more for you to do, except--oh yes, do be very nice, and run down to the mail counter, or wherever in the hotel you can buy stamps." As these instructions were being given, Zélie pencilled with incredible quickness a few words on a scrap of paper. This scrap she tucked up her sleeve, and a second or two later, as Garth opened the door for her to go out, she contrived to slip the paper into the hand on the knob.