warned her. Yet, as she lay there in her bed, she felt that she was about to give up something forever, and that Monte was about to give up something forever. It is one thing not to want something, and another to make an irrevocable decision never to have it. Also, it is one thing to fret one's self into an unnecessary panic over a problem at night, and another to handle it lightly in the balmy sunshine of a Parisian springtime morning. Monte had risen early and gone out and bought her violets again. When she came in, he handed them to her, and she buried her face in their dewy fragrance. It was good to have some one think of just such little attentions. Then, too, his boyish enthusiasm swept her off her guard. He was so eager and light-hearted this morning that she found herself breaking into a laugh. She was still laughing when he brought back to her last night's discussion. "Well, have you decided to marry me?" he demanded. She shook her head, her face still buried in the violets. "What's worrying you about it?" he asked. "You, Monte," she answered. "I? Well, that isn't much. I looked up the time-tables, and we could take the six-ten to-night if you were ready." "I could n't possibly be ready," she replied decidedly. "To-morrow, then?" When he insisted upon being definite, the proposition sounded a great deal more absurd than when he allowed it to be indefinite. She was still hesitating when Marie appeared. "A telephone for mademoiselle," she announced. Monte heard her startled exclamation from the next room. He hurried to the door. She saw him, and, placing her hand over the telephone, turned excitedly. "It's Teddy again," she trembled. "Let me talk to him," he commanded. "He says he does n't believe in our--our engagement." "We're to be married to-morrow?" he asked quickly.