"Then drink to our good health with your friends," he suggested. Calling a taxicab, he assisted her in; but before the door closed Marjory leaned toward her and whispered in her ear:-- "You will come back to the hotel at six?" "Yes, madame." So Marie went off to her cousins, looking in some ways more like a bride than her mistress. Marjory preferred to walk. She wanted to get back again to the mood of half an hour ago. She must in some way get Peter Noyes out of her mind. So quite aimlessly they moved down the Avenue Montaigne, and Monte waved his hand at the passing people. "Now," he announced, "you are none of anybody's business." "Is that true, Monte?" Marjory asked eagerly. "True as preaching." "And no one has any right to scold me?" "Not the slightest. If any one tries it, turn him over to me." "That might not always be possible." "You don't mean to say any one has begun this soon?" He glared about as if to find the culprit. "Don't look so fierce, Monte," she protested, with a laugh. "Then don't you look so worried," he retorted. Already, by his side, she was beginning to recover. A Parisian dandy coming toward them stared rather overlong at her. An hour ago it would have made her uneasy; now she felt like making a face at him. She laughed a little. "The minister was terribly serious, was n't he, Monte?" "Too darned serious," he nodded. "But, you see, he did n't know. I suppose the cross-your-throat, hope-to-die kind of marriage is serious. That's the trouble with it." "Yes; that's the trouble with it."