"I can see Chic coming down the aisle now, with his face chalk-white and--" "Don't," she broke in. He looked down at her--surprised that she herself was taking this so seriously. "My comrade," he said, "what you need is to play a little." "Yes," she agreed eagerly. "Then where shall we go? The world is before you." He was in exactly the mood to which she herself had looked forward--a mood of springtime and irresponsibility. That was what he should be. It was her right to feel like that also. "Oh," she exclaimed, "I'd like to go to all the places I could n't go alone! Take me." "To the Cafe de Paris for lunch?" She nodded. "To the races afterward and to the Riche for dinner?" "Yes, yes." "So to the theater and to Maxim's?" Her face was flushed as she nodded again. "We're off!" he exclaimed, taking her arm. It was an afternoon that left her no time to think. She was caught up by the gay, care-free crowd and swept around in a dizzy circle. Yet always Monte was by her side. She could take his arm if she became too confused, and that always steadied her. Then she was whirled back to the hotel and to Marie, with no more time than was necessary to dress for dinner. She was glad there was no more time. For at least to-day there must be no unfilled intervals. She felt refreshed after her bath, and, to Marie's delight, consented to attire herself in one of her newest evening gowns, a costume of silk and lace that revealed her neck and arms. Also she allowed Marie to do her hair as she pleased. That was a good sign, but Marie thought madame's cheeks did not look like a good sign.