"I'll explain it all later. There's really nothing dishonorable—as men of the world look at such things. I give you my word that you can serve Mr. Jephson best by keeping the necklace for the present—and seeing to it that it does not fall into the hands of the men who are looking for it."
Minot sat staring gloomily ahead of him. Then he reached out, took up the necklace, and restored it to his pocket.
"Oh, very well," he said. "If I'm sent to jail, tell Thacker I went singing an epithalamium." He rose.
"By the way," Harrowby remarked, "I'm giving a little dinner to-night—at the Manhattan Club. May I count on you?"
"Surely," Minot smiled. "I'll be there, wearing our necklace."
"My dear fellow—ah, I see you mean it pleasantly. Wear it, by all means."
Minot passed from the eccentric blooms of that dressing-gown to the more authentic flowers of the Florida outdoors. In the plaza he met Cynthia Meyrick, rival candidate to the morning in its glory.
"Matrimony," she said, "is more trouble than it seems on a moonlit night under the palms. I've never been so busy in my life. By the way, two of my bridesmaids arrived from New York last night. Lovely girls—both of them. But I forget!"
"Forget what?"
"Your young heart is already ensnared, isn't it?"