wman? You will excuse me for
hurrying off, won't you? And it has been so lovely of you to ask
me--perfectly delightful to find friends this way when I was a stranger."

She hurried toward the stairway and down the broad steps, and the hostess
had no choice but to follow her.

The other guests crowded out into the hall to bid them good-by and to tell
the girl how much they had enjoyed the music. Mrs. Blackwell insisted upon
kissing the smooth cheek of the young musician, and whispered in her ear:
"You play very nicely, my dear. I should like to hear you again some
time." The kindness in her tone almost brought a rush of tears to the eyes
of the weary, anxious girl.

[Illustration]




III


Dunham hurried her off amid the goodbyes of the company, and in a moment
more they were shut into the semi-darkness of the four-wheeler and whirled
from the too hospitable door.

As soon as the door was shut, the girl began to tremble.

"Oh, we ought not to have done that!" she exclaimed with a shiver of
recollection. "They were so very kind. It was dreadful to impose upon
them. But--you were not to blame. It was my fault. It was very kind of
you."

"We did not impose upon them!" he exclaimed peremptorily. "You are my
friend, and that was all that we claimed. For the rest, you have certainly
made good. Your wonderful music! How I wish I might hear more of it some
time!"

The carriage paused to let a trolley pass, and a strong arc-light beat in
upon the two. A passing stranger peered curiously at them, and the girl
shrank back in fear. It was momentary, but the minds of the two were
brought back to the immediate necessities of the occasion.

"Now, what may I do for you?" asked Dunham in a quiet, business-like tone,
as if it were his privilege and right to do all that was to be done. "Have
you thought where you would like to go?"

"I have not been able to do much thinking. It required all my wits to act
with the present. But I know that I must not be any further trouble to
you. You