Harley for letting you go. For me, however, he must do differently.
I have no particular desire to leave America, and if I go at all it
is as a favor to him, and he must act accordingly. It is a case of
carriage or no heroine. If I'm left behind, you and the rest can go
along without me. I shall do very well, and it will be Mr. Harley's
own fault. It may hurt his story somewhat, but that is no concern of
mine."

"I suppose the reason why he doesn't send a carriage is that that
part of your life doesn't appear in his story," explained Mrs.
Corwin.

"That doesn't affect the point that he ought to send one," said
Marguerite. "He needn't write up the episode of the ride to the pier
unless he wants to, but the fact remains that it's his duty to see me
safely on board from my home, and that he shall do, or I fail him at
the moment he needs me. If he is selfish enough to overlook the
matter, he must suffer the consequences."

All of which, I think, was very reasonable. No heroine likes to feel
that she is called into being merely to provide copy for the person
who is narrating her story; and to be impressed with the idea that
the moment she is off the stage she must shift entirely for herself
is too humiliating to be compatible with true heroism.

Now it so happened that in his meditations upon that opening chapter
the scene of which was to be placed on board of the New York, Stuart
realized that his story of Miss Andrews's character had indeed been
too superficial. He found that out at the moment he sat down to
describe her arrival at the pier, as it would be in all likelihood.