"Do you know any one--just any one--who has a photo-- just any old photo--of Jem Temple Barholm?"She was rather puzzled.
"Yes.I know a woman who has worn one for nearly eight years.Do you want to see it?""I'd give a good deal to," was his answer.
She took a flat locket from her dress and handed it to him.
"Women don't wear lockets in these days." He could barely hear her voice because it was so low."But I've never taken it off.I want him near my heart.It's Jem!"He held it on the palm of his hand and stood under the light, studying it as if he wanted to be sure he wouldn't forget it.
"It's--sorter like that picture of Miles Hugo, ain't it?" he suggested.
"Yes.People always said so.That was why you found me in the picture-gallery the first time we met."
"I knew that was the reason--and I knew I'd made a break when I butted in," he answered.Then, still looking at the photograph, "You'd know this face again most anywhere you saw it, I guess.""There are no faces like it anywhere," said Joan.
"I guess that's so," he replied."And it's one that wouldn't change much either.Thank you, Lady Joan."He handed back the picture, and she put out her hand again.
"I think I'll go to my room now," she said."You've done a strange thing to me.You've taken nearly all the hatred and bitterness out of my heart.I shall want to come back here whether my mother comes or not--I shall want to.""The sooner the quicker," he said."And so long as I'm here I'll be ready and waiting.""Don't go away," she said softly."I shall need you.""Isn't that great?" he cried, flushing delightedly."Isn't it just great that we've got things straightened so that you can say that.
Gee! This is a queer old world! There's such a lot to do in it, and so few hours in the day.Seems like there ain't time to stop long enough to hate anybody and keep a grouch on.A fellow's got to keep hustling not to miss the things worth while."The liking in her eyes was actually wistful.
"That's your way of thinking, isn't it?" she said."Teach it to me if you can.I wish you could.Good-night." She hesitated a second."God bless you!" she added, quite suddenly--almost fantastic as the words sounded to her.That she, Joan Fayre, should be calling down devout benisons on the head of T.Tembarom--T.Tembarom!
Her mother was in her room when she reached it.She had come up early to look over her possessions--and Joan's--before she began her packing.The bed, the chairs, and tables were spread with evening, morning, and walking-dresses, and the millinery collected from their combined wardrobes.She was examining anxiously a lace appliqued and embroidered white coat, and turned a slightly flushed face toward the opening door.
"I am going over your things as well as my own," she said."I shall take what I can use.You will require nothing in London.You will require nothing anywhere in future.What is the matter?" she said sharply, as she saw her daughter's face.
Joan came forward feeling it a strange thing that she was not in the mood to fight--to lash out and be glad to do it.
"Captain Palliser told me as I came up that Mr.Temple Barholm had been talking to you," her mother went on."He heard you having some sort of scene as he passed the door.As you have made your decision, of course I know I needn't hope that anything has happened.""What has happened has nothing to do with my decision.He wasn't waiting for that," Joan answered her."We were both entirely mistaken, Mother.""What are you talking about?" cried Lady Mallowe, but she temporarily laid the white coat on a chair."What do you mean by mistaken?""He doesn't want me--he never did," Joan answered again.A shadow of a smile hovered over her face, and there was no derision in it, only a warming recollection of his earnestness when he had said the words she quoted: "He is what they call in New York `dead stuck on another girl."'
Lady Mallowe sat down on the chair that held the white coat, and she did not push the coat aside.
"He told you that in his vulgar slang!" she gasped it out."You--you ought to have struck him dead with your answer.""Except poor Jem Temple Barholm," was the amazing reply she received, "he is the only friend I ever had in my life."
