If ZÉlie Marks had been a malicious girl she could, with a few words through the telephone or on paper, have spoiled at a stroke such few chances of happiness as remained to Garth.

The man was completely, almost ludicrously in her power; and ZÉlie didn't flatter herself that what he had done was done entirely because of trust in her. He did trust her, of course. But as the girl set forth to carry out his wishes, she realised that he had turned to her as much through a man's blindness as through perfect faith in her unfailing friendship.

Friendship! She laughed a little at the word, travelling westward in the luxurious stateroom for which Garth had paid. What a dear fool he was! But all men were like that. When they fell head over heels in love with one woman, they never bothered to analyse the feelings of any other female thing on earth!

Yes, that was about all she was in his eyes—a female thing! He had been in desperate need of help, and she happened to be the one creature who could give the kind he wanted.

Some girls would have refused, she thought. Others would have accepted, and then—behaved like cats. Even she had longed to behave like a cat when she talked to his "wife" through the telephone. "If Marise Sorel dreamed of what he's asked me to do, not one of the things he hopes for could ever by any possibility come to pass," ZÉlie reminded herself, as she gazed without seeing it at the flying landscape. "Not that they ever will come to pass anyhow. But it shan't be my fault that he's disappointed."

Miss Marks honestly believed that she was unselfish in her service; yet something far down in the depths of her prayed to gain a reward for it in the far, far future.

The one thing which seemed certain about this wild marriage was, that it wouldn't last. Sooner or later—probably sooner!—there'd be a divorce. Then, maybe, Jack Garth would remember what his pal ZÉlie Marks had done for him. He'd turn to her for comfort as now he turned for help. Love—real love—was sometimes born in such ways: and ZÉlie didn't for an instant let herself think that Garth's love for Marise Sorel was real. It was infatuation, and was bound to pass when he found out what a vain, self-centred girl his idol was; whereas ZÉlie Marks had been loyally his chum for years.

ZÉlie had loved Garth long before the war, when she knew him in Albuquerque. She was learning stenography then, after her father died, and when there was no one for her to live with except an aunt. The aunt was quite a good aunt, and a friend of Mrs. Mooney—Jack's "Mothereen"; but ZÉlie had wanted to be independent. Jack and Mothereen had been kind to the girl; and when Jack began building a house near his beloved Grand Canyon, for a little while ZÉlie had tremblingly prayed that it was meant for her to live in. Later, she had begun to lose hope, but not wholly. And then the war had broken out in Europe. Almost at once Garth had dashed over to England and offered his services, on the plea that his father, a Yorkshire man, had never been naturalised as an American.

ZÉlie couldn't rest in Albuquerque after that. She went east, and would quietly have slipped away after Garth to Europe as a Red Cross nurse if she hadn't been afraid he would suspect why she followed. Instead, she stopped in New York, and got work as a stenographer with a firm of engineers, thanks to an introduction from Jack. When America flung herself into the war-furnace too, ZÉlie Marks did train as a nurse: but in little more than a year came the Armistice, and the girl reluctantly took up her old profession again.

Now, she loved Major Garth, V.C., a hundred times more than she had loved Jack Garth, the smart young inventor. Yet here she was on the way to Arizona, where she had promised to go and get his house (that house she had once thought might be hers!) ready to receive another woman!

When he had come to her flat early in the morning and told her what he wanted done to "surprise Marise," she had made him some hot coffee, and agreed to everything.

"Yes, Jack," she said, "I'll do it, and your wife shall never know, unless you tell her yourself. And I advise you not to do that, because if you drop the least hint, she'll hate the house and me, and be angry with you. Any girl would! I'm not blaming her. She shall think that your house was just waiting, in apple-pie order, her room and all: or else—yes, that would be best!—she shall think Mothereen did the whole business. Of course, that's what you'd want Mothereen to do, and what she'd want to do, if she were strong enough for the task. But as it is, she shall work just enough, so that she won't have to fib—no hard work to tire her out. She'll love to go to the Canyon with me—the dear Mothereen!—and she'll have the time of her life."

So that was ZÉlie Marks' secret errand. She was to travel straight through to Kansas City, by the Santa FÉ "Limited." There she was to pause in her journey and purchase a list of things which had never been supplied for Garth's new house, finished only a short time before the war: beautiful silver, crystal and fine linen, and the decorations for a room worthy of a bride like Marise. Kansas City was a big enough town to provide these things, Garth thought; and as it was many hours nearer the Grand Canyon than was Chicago, ZÉlie's purchases would reach their destination sooner than if she shopped there.

Garth had to leave much to ZÉlie's taste, but his advice, "Try to think what she would like," had hurt. ZÉlie was to have all the trouble and pain, yet must strive to please Marise Sorel, not herself. And poor old ZÉlie was never to get any credit for the sacrifice!

Of course, she had got something. She had got Jack's thanks in advance. He had said, "You're a brick, ZÉlie! The finest girl there is. I shall never forget what you're doing for me." And she had got the most marvellous jewels she'd ever seen except at the opera or at Tiffany's. But she didn't count them as possessions. She knew they had been refused by Marise (Jack put it casually, "Stuff didn't make a hit there. I hope it will with you!"), and ZÉlie had no intention of keeping Mrs. Garth's cast-off finery. Just what she would eventually do with what Jack called the "stuff," she hadn't made up her mind: but the girl felt confident of an inspiration.

She had also got money for the trip West, and back, with travel de luxe. She didn't mind accepting that, as she was doing an immense favour for Jack, which nobody else could or would do. And she didn't mind his paying an "understudy" to look after her work at the Belmore till she should return. But she had refused nearly half the money which Jack had pressed upon her. She simply "wouldn't have it!" she'd insisted. He had been forced to yield, or vex her: but he had probably said within himself, "Anyhow, she's got the jewels!"

How little he knew her, if he could think that!... And so, after all, the thanks were the biggest part of her reward.

Tears smarted under ZÉlie's eyelids now and then, as she thought of these things while the train whirled her westward: how loyal she was to her pal, and was going to be in spite of every temptation; how little Marise deserved the worship lavished upon her; and how much more good it would do Jack to give his love in another quarter!

"All the same, I'll do my very, very best," the girl repeated. "I won't tell Mothereen a single one of the horrid things I think about the bride. I'll paint her in glowing colours. I'll try and make the house a dream of beauty, no matter how hard I work. I'll warn Mothereen not to mention my name, though I'd love to have her blurt it out! But some day—and some way—I'll somehow get even with Marise Sorel for all she's made me suffer. And made Jack suffer!"