OUR FRIEND THE ENEMY Durkin was pacing up and down the small room in his stockinged feet, looking at her, from time to time, with a detached, but ever studiously alert glance.

Then he came to a stop, and confronted her.

The memory of the night before, in the Promenade, with the sudden glimpse of her profile against the floating automobile curtain, came back to his mind, with a stab of pain.
"But what has all this to do with Lady Boxspur ?" he suddenly demanded, wondering how long he should be able to have faith in that inner, unshaken integrity of hers which had passed through so many trials and survived so many calamities.

But she hurried on, as though unconscious of both his tone and his attitude.
"That has more to do with the next-of-kin agency.

I left it out, of course, but if you _must_ know it now, and here, I can tell you in a word or two." "One naturally wants to know when one's wife ascends into the aristocracy!" "And a Mercedes touring car as well! But, oh, Jim, surely you and I don't need to go back to all that sort of thing, at this stage of the game," she retorted wearily.