ost must see the
strained look in his face, but he tried to fasten his interest upon the
conversation and keep calm.

He had applied the test. There was no number upon the card, and he knew
that if the girl were not the one of whom he was in search, she would
return for an explanation.

If you are "Mary Remington," tell me where and when I can talk
with you. Immediately important to us both!

This was what he had written on the card. His fingers trembled as he took
it from the silver tray which she presented to him demurely. He picked it
up and eagerly read the delicate writing--hers--the same that had
expressed her thanks and told of her safe arrival in Chicago. He could
scarcely refrain from leaping from his chair and shouting aloud in his
gladness.

The message she had written was simple. No stranger reading it would have
thought twice about it. If the guest had read it aloud, it would have
aroused no suspicion.

Y.W.C.A. Building, small parlor, three to-morrow.

He knew the massive building, for he had passed it many times, but never
had he supposed it could have any interest for him. Now suddenly his heart
warmed to the great organization of Christian women who had established
these havens for homeless ones in the heart of the great cities.

He looked up at the girl as she was passing the coffee on the other side
of the table, but not a flicker of an eyelash showed she recognized him.
She went through her duties and withdrew from the room, but though they
lingered long over the coffee, she did not return. When they went into
the other room, his interest in the family grew less and less. The
daughter of the house sat down at the piano, after leading him up to ask
her to sing, and chirped through several sentimental songs, tinkling out a
shallow accompaniment with her plump, manicured fingers. His soul revolted
at the thought that she should be here entertaining the company, while
that other one whose music would have thrilled them all stayed humbly in
the kit