"I'll retain my membership in two clubs. I'm starting out to-morrow to find a couple of cozy rooms in a genteel apartment hotel."
"Have you broken the news to your father?"
He laughed. "No. I stopped at his room to see if he had pneumonia. He said he was asleep and couldn't tell—and for me to go to the devil."
From the car window they watched the great white sea through which they were gliding. Their hearts were free and their hearts were sparkling. Constantly recurring in their thoughts were the little forgotten things of that memorable voyage across the Atlantic. It was he, however, who presumed to steal surreptitious glances in which wonder was uppermost; she steadfastly declined to be led by her impulses.
"You've never heard anything particularly terrible about me, have you?" he demanded, rather anxiously, once in course of a duet of personalities.
"Only that a great many women are in love with you."
"It's funny I've never heard that," he said dolefully.
"Men say that you are an exceptionally decent chap and it's too bad you'll never amount to anything."
"Oh, they do, do they?" indignantly.
"I think they'll be stunned when they hear of your latest move."