e shadow,
I lose the reality? I'd rather lose twenty opportunities than my only
wife, and what's to become of you while I go down to Broad Street? Do
you propose to sit in the station?"

"I propose nothing of the kind," she laughed. "I shall go straight to
the Ruissillard and wait for you. Dick and Gladys may be there already."

Although Mr. John Blake received this suggestion with elaborate
disfavor and disclaimer it was clear to the pretty eyes of Mrs. John
Blake that he hailed it with delight, and she was full of theories upon
marital co-operation and of eagerness to put them into practice. None of
her husband's objections could daunt her, and before he had adjusted
himself to the situation he had packed his wife into a hansom, given the
cabman careful instructions and a careless tip, and was standing on the
step admonishing his bride:

"Be sure to tell them that we must have out-side rooms. Have the baggage
sent up, but don't touch it. If you open a trunk or lift a tray before I
arrive I shall instantly send you home to your mother as incorrigible."

"Very well," she agreed; "I'll be good."

"And then, if Gladys is there--it's only an off-chance that they come
before to-morrow--get her to sit with you. But don't go wandering about
the hotel by yourself. And, above all, don't go out."

"Goosie," said she, "of course I shan't go out. Where should I go?"

"And you're sure, sure, sure that you don't mind?" he asked for the
dozenth time.

"Goosie," said she again, "I am quite, quite sure of it. Now go or you
will surely miss your appointment and disappoint your uncle."

After two or three more questions of his and assurances of hers the cab
was allowed to swing out into the current. John had given the driver
careful navigation orders, and Marjorie leaned back contentedly enough
and watched the busy people, all hot and haggard, as New York's people
sometimes are in the first warm days of May. Her collection of
illustrated post-cards had prepared her to identify many of the places
she passed, but once or twice she felt, a little ruefully the difference
between this, her actual first glimpse of New York and the same first
glimpse as she and John had planned it before the benign, but hardly
felicitous, interference of Uncle Richard. This feeling of loneliness
was strongly in the ascendent when the cab stopped under an ornate
portico and two large male creatures, in powdered wigs and white silk
stockings, emerged be