and true eyes, and she accepted with a
good grace the ten-dollar bill he handed to her.

"We charge only fifty cents a night for a room," she said, glancing at the
humble garments of the man's companion. She thought the girl must be a
poor dependent or a country relative.

"That's all right," said the young man. "Just let the change help the good
work along."

That made a distinct change in the atmosphere. The matron smiled, and
retired to snub the girl with the discontented upper lip. Then she sent
the elevator boy to carry the girl's suit-case. As the matron came back to
the office, a baggy man with cushioned tires hustled out of the open door
into the street, having first cast back a keen, furtive glance that
searched every corner of the place.

"Now," said Dunham reassuringly, as the matron disappeared, "you can go up
to your room and get ready, and I will look after a few little matters. I
called on my friend, the minister, this morning, and I have looked up the
legal part of this affair. I can see that everything is all right in a few
minutes. Is there anything you would like me to do for you?"

"No," she answered, looking up half frightened; "but I am afraid I ought
not to let you do this. You scarcely know me."

"Now, dear, no more of that. We have no time to lose. How long will it
take you to get dressed? Will half an hour do? It is getting late."

"Oh, it will not take long." She caught her breath with gladness. Her
companion's voice was so strong and comforting, his face so filled with a
wonderful love, that she felt dazed with the sudden joy of it all.

The elevator boy appeared in the doorway with the familiar suit-case.

"Don't be afraid, dear heart," whispered the young man, as he attended her
to the elevator. "I'll soon be back again, and then, _then_, we shall be
together!"

It was a large front room to which the boy took her. The ten-dollar bill
had proven effective. It was not a "fifty-cents-a-night" room. Some
one--some guest or kindly patron--had put a