"Will you step into Miss Marks's sitting-room? She's expecting you," Marise was greeted, arriving at the hotel.

"A private sitting-room! And Jack Garth's money pays for it," she thought dully. But of course it was nothing to her. At least, it would have been nothing if, while keeping it secret, he was not bent on driving away the man who loved her—Marise. Oh, and that reminded her of an important thing! It had been on her lips to accuse him of giving ZÉlie the jewels, but she had been interrupted, or had forgotten. Then the note had come from the hotel.... She would have the truth out of ZÉlie herself.

The sitting-room was on the ground floor, and had a loggia all its own, lit by a red-shaded electric lamp, like an illuminated poppy. ZÉlie was there in a huge American rocking-chair, gazing Canyonward under the moon, when Mrs. Garth was shown into the room. Instantly the girl jumped up, and Marise saw her framed in the door. She looked pale, and thinner than she had been in New York. But the change wasn't unbecoming.

The conventional thing would have been for ZÉlie to say, "How good of you to come! I hope you didn't mind my sending for you, as I've been ill." Whereupon Marise would naturally have answered, "Not at all."

But nothing of the kind happened. The two girls eyed each other like fencers, or even like cats. Then Marise said, "You see, I've come."

"Yes," replied ZÉlie, "I supposed you would, after what Lord Severance told me."

Marise was startled. "Lord Severance! What did he tell you?"

"That you suspected your husband and me of all sorts of unmentionable things, and that you wouldn't be satisfied until you'd had it out with me. Well—now you can have it out with me. Fire away, Mrs. Garth. I've nothing to be ashamed of. It's all the other way round."

"What do you mean?" gasped Marise.

"Well, frankly, I mean that you should be ashamed of suspecting him. You ought to know him better."

"I said not one word to Lord Severance about suspecting my—Major Garth," Marise broke out in self-defence.

"Didn't you?" echoed ZÉlie. "Well, that's funny, since he sent up his card and told me you were wild. He urged and urged, if I had any friendship for Jack Garth, to write and get you here."

"That's very strange," said Marise. "But I suppose—one must suppose!—he meant well. Now I am here, if you have anything to tell me you might as well tell it."

"Does Jack know you've come?" asked ZÉlie quietly.

"He does. We were talking about you when your note arrived. You see, Lord Severance mentioned that you were at the hotel."

"Then why did you want to talk with me? Surely you'd believe Jack? I shouldn't think anyone ever accused him of lying!"

"I never did! But I—well, when your note came I thought I'd rather hear everything from you. It wouldn't have occurred to me otherwise."

"You mean you wouldn't have proposed coming over here if I hadn't written?"

"I shouldn't even have thought of it."

"Then it's a game of Lord Severance's we seem to be playing."

"I don't see his object," puzzled Marise.

"Neither do I," replied ZÉlie—"yet. But as you say—now you are here, we might as well talk. Won't you sit down?"

"No, thank you," said Marise. "I'd rather stand."

"Well, if you don't mind, I'll sit. I'm not very strong yet, as I told you in my letter, that's why I'm still here."

"Oh, please do sit down!" cried Marise, more gently. "In that case I will sit, too."

"In justice to Jack I ought to tell you the whole story of why I came out," said ZÉlie. "He and I decided it would be best for you not to know. At least, I decided, because I'm a woman and realise how a woman feels about such things. However, as he let you come here to see me, he must have expected you to hear the truth. Goodness knows, it's simple enough, and won't take long in the telling! The morning after you were married he called early to see me, and asked if I'd do him a big favour. Of course I said yes. The favour was, to start out West at once, buy pretty things to decorate your room at Vision House, get the whole place in apple-pie order, and engage servants from somewhere—no matter where, and no matter what wages. Mothereen wasn't strong enough to have the whole work thrown on her shoulders, though she'd have loved it. But when I'd finished a lot of commissions at Kansas City, I stopped at Albuquerque and told her about you."

"I wonder what you told?" Marise laughed a little nervously.

"What Jack would have wanted me to tell, not what you deserved."

Mrs. John Garth stiffened. "Are you the judge of what I deserve?"

"God help you if I were! All I know about you is, that you're the most spoiled, conceited girl I ever saw, and that you're not capable of appreciating Jack Garth—no, not capable!"

"You don't know in the least what I'm capable of!" The cheeks of Marise were burning now. They felt as if they had been slapped. "I never showed my real self to you. Why should I?"

"Why, indeed? But you showed me all your gladdest rags, and your jewels and newspaper notices, and let me answer lots of your love-letters, meaning to make the poor secretary envious."

"What horrid thoughts you had of me! I never meant that."

"Subconsciously, if not consciously, that's just what you did mean."

"I won't dispute with you, Miss Marks. But speaking of jewels—since you're being so frank—tell me if Major Garth didn't make a present to you of a rope of pearls, an emerald laurel wreath, a sapphire and diamond pendant——"

ZÉlie was strongly tempted to answer bluntly "Yes." If she did, and left it at that, Marise would be furious. She would go back to Vision House and quarrel with Jack, even if the two hadn't quarrelled irrevocably already, and the divorce which might give Jack to her would come soon. But no, she had vowed to herself that she would be loyal to Jack through everything. She had vowed, too, that she would "get even" with Marise Sorel some day—and now was the day when she could "bring off the stunt," as she said to herself. But she wouldn't get even in a way to hurt Jack. If possible, she'd do it in a way to help him.

"He gave me those things to take out to Mothereen and ask her to keep them for you, till you came," lied ZÉlie. And lying, she looked more indignantly virtuous than when she had been telling the simple truth.

Marise believed her.

"Is there anything more you want to know?" inquired

Miss Marks. "Because if you do, I can't think of much which would especially concern or interest you, except that Mothereen—Mrs. Mooney—came to the Grand Canyon with me and helped as much in the work as she was strong enough to do. So you needn't imagine she told you any fibs. If there were reservations, I'm responsible. She'd have blabbed out everything if I hadn't warned her you wouldn't be pleased to hear that I'd been Jack's chosen messenger. You didn't like me much, I said. You and your mother thought I was rather forward and above my place. You'd think so a heap more if you knew. Mothereen promised to hold her tongue. It must have been a struggle for her. She's as ingenuous as a child. So is Jack in some ways. He'd have told you all about me if I hadn't made him see it wouldn't do."

"You seem to have been awfully solicitous on my account," said Marise.

"It was on Jack's account really," explained ZÉlie.

"I didn't want his apple-cart to be upset—no matter what I thought of the apples. I didn't care a hang for them personally."

Marise laughed. "The apples were me."

"That's it. Pretty, good-smelling apples, with pink cheeks and satin skin. But at heart—r-o-t-t-e-n!"

"Thanks!" choked Marise, and got up. "Thank you for all your frankness. I could return some of it, but you've been ill, and I don't like being rude. I must just say one thing, however, before I go. You've given yourself away dreadfully."

ZÉlie stumbled to her feet. "How?"

"By showing me exactly what your feeling is for Major Garth."

"I'm his pal from the beginning to the end."

Marise ignored the evasion. "You needn't be afraid that I'll be cad enough to go and tell him what I think about you. He probably knows your feelings and returns them, but——"

"He doesn't. Are you a damn fool, or are you only pretending?"

"I daresay I'm a damn fool," repeated Marise sweetly. "In any case, I'm not pretending."

"Then you're doubly a fool!" shrilled ZÉlie. "A damned fool not to know how Jack feels for you, and a damneder one not to know enough to feel right towards him. Jack's the salt of the earth. There's more courage and good faith and everything noble and big in his little finger than in your whole lovely body. So now you can go home. And put that in your pocket!"

Marise went. She shut the door softly, so softly and considerately that it hurt worse than a loud slam.

"I did get even with her!" ZÉlie thought. And plumped down on the sofa with a sob.