elected on account of the probable absence of the
ultra-fashionable set. There, their secret would be safe,--and also they
would be nearer the steamer.

Arriving at her destination, Grace dismissed the disappointed cabman,
and entered the ladies' waiting-room, where she rang for the clerk.

"Is there a Mr. Ridge staying here?" she asked of him with an assurance
that, she flattered herself, was admirably assumed.

"No such person with us, madam. Were you expecting him?"

"Why, yes," she replied, a little confused. "He should be here any
minute."

And to his inquiry as to whether she would require anything in the
meantime, there came a reply in the negative and he departed.

With a sigh of relief at being alone, she crossed over to a desk and
busied herself in writing a long letter. This accomplished, she arose,
moved over to the window and looked out. The waiting-room faced the main
artery of the city, and below her was the endless stream of humanity.
Endeavoring to check a slight feeling of uneasiness that was fast coming
over her at Hugh's unexpected non-appearance, she tried to concentrate
her thoughts on the panorama of the streets. A half hour passed. Then,
in spite of herself, nervousness assailed her. What could be keeping
him? Had he met with an accident? Or, could she have made a mistake in
the name under which he was to register--could he be waiting for her all
the time? Back and forth, to and fro the girl paced. Thoroughly alarmed
and in spite of a sense of mortification at such an undertaking, she
again interviewed the clerk.

"Will it be convenient for me to see the register?" she inquired, forced
to conceal her embarrassment.

The clerk obligingly brought the book and eagerly she scanned the list.
Unfortunately, for her, there was no mistake. Nothing like Ridgeway,
Ridge or Hugh's handwriting greeted her anxious eyes.

A silence that seemed an inconceivably long one to the almost
overwrought girl was broken by the clerk asking would she register?

Grace could hardly restrain her agitation. The critical moment had come.
Something must be done. But what? Should she register and under what
name? Or, should she wait longer; and if not, where should she go?
Finally, with a desperate effort, she looked imploringly at him, and
with heightened color, gasped:

"No, thank you; I'll wait a little longer for my--my--brother."

It was out. The prevarication had been uttered, and Grace felt as if
she had co