"Why, it's impossible, it's unheard of!" Tears sprang to Miss Martha's eyes, but Dunham took her arm and led her to the door, and while a sob of anxiety struggled in her breast he hurried her to the elevator and out upon the street, and at once hailed an approaching car. "Do you wish to go right to the station, or to do errands?" he asked. "Oh, errands!" exclaimed Miss Lacey wildly. "Who could think of errands!" "Well, this car will take you to the station. I have some business to attend to, but shall probably catch the same train you do." The car stopped. Dunham helped his bewildered companion to enter, and stepping back to the sidewalk, walked half a block in the opposite direction with business-like haste. Then he turned on his heel, observed that no stoppage in the street had detained Miss Martha's noisy conveyance, and striding back to the hotel, he reëntered the dingy elevator. He knew that there could scarcely be a more deserted, isolated spot at this hour of the day than the parlor of the old hotel; and it was as he hoped. The girl had not left it. He descried the slender black figure at once. She was clinging hopelessly with both hands to one of the sodden hangings and sobbing into its heavy folds. He went up to her. "Pardon me. I've come back. Please don't do that." She lifted her swollen eyes in surprise for a moment and then hid them. "What right have you!" she murmured. "None, but I couldn't do anything else, of course. You can see that. Come over here and sit down, please. Somebody might come in." The girl controlled her sobs; but kept her face hidden. "I don't want to talk to you," she gasped. "I know you don't. It makes it rather awkward. Is there any one else in Boston—any one I could go and bring to you?" She rubbed her soft little curls into the aged hangings in a hopeless negative. "Say!" said Dunham, in acute protest, "would you mind taking your head out of that curtain? Why, it might give you typhoid fever." "I've just had it," replied the girl chokingly. "That's why I'm so weak
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