nch name."

And just as Miss Mary was drifting off to that dull world of grievances
in which she dwelt habitually, a new idea, as strong and definite as
that which took her through the gate caught and held her, and she wrote
in a little leather book in her bag, "28th St. west, near Sixth." Some
primitive instinct of caution directed her to a street car in
preference to a hansom or taxi-cab, and she found the French woman's
small, musty establishment with an ease that surprised her. Her coat,
obviously "imported," the elegance of her bag and umbrella, the air of
custom with which she submitted to others' ministrations, brought her
quick service, and in less than the guaranteed two hours she left
Madame, whose very considerable fee she paid with gloved hands, thus,
through sheer inadvertence, concealing the one trace of her
identity--her massive and beautiful rings. For no one of Dr. Jarvyse's
detectives could be expected to look at an iron-grey woman in black,
when searching for a black-haired woman in blue plaid. And none of
them, not the great Jarvyse, nor her maid even, knew that Miss Mary had
dyed her hair for ten years!

As she stood by a little optician's, on one of the great avenues,
later, gazing fascinated at her strange reflection in a large glass
there, terrified at her daring, doubtful if her freedom could endure,
two errand-girls, peering in with her in the imitative New York
fashion, held her with an idle sentence.

"Did you know Miss Mahoney with those glasses? I nearly fell over when
I seen her, honest! She was awful cross--the boss himself cut her
dead!"

"Say, what do you think of that now?"

"An' they're only window-glass, too! She told one o' the fitters. She
can stare at the ladies better she says, when they try to beat her
down."

They moved on, but Miss Mary entered the shop.

"Can I get a pair of eye-glasses made of window-glass?" she asked him
simply.

"Certainly, madam," and one would have supposed that leaders of fashion
generally were wearing these articles, so swiftly and unsmilingly did
he produce them and adjust them to her strong, dark eyes.

"Wonderful how they change a person, though," he admitted. "You
wouldn't believe it."

The price seemed very small to Miss Mary, whose last purchase in that
line had been a tortoise-shell lorgnette for her sister-in-law.

She had eaten very lightly at luncheon, for food was tasteless to her,
of late, and she had been so followe