air and order her luncheon for her. But it was not so to be. She
passed him still well down the line. He had probably given his place
to other women in succession. She did not like that. It seemed a
trifle unfaithful or promiscuous or something. The rescuer owes the
rescuee a certain fidelity. He did not look at her. He did not claim
even a glance of gratitude.

It was so American a gallantry that she resented it. If he had seemed
to ask for the alms of a smile, she would have insulted him. Yet it
was not altogether satisfactory to be denied the privilege. She fumed.
Everything was wrong. She sat in her cuckoo's nest and glared at the
reeling landscape.

Suddenly she began pawing through that private chaos, looking for
Polly Widdicombe's letter. She could not find it. She found the checks
for her trunks, a handkerchief, a pair of gloves, and various other
things, but not the letter. This gave her a new fright.

She remembered now that she had left it on the telephone-table. She
could see it plainly as her remembered glance took its last survey of
the room. The brain has a way of developing occasional photographs
very slowly. Something strikes our eyes, and we do not really see it
till long after. We hear words and say, "How's that?" or, "I beg your
pardon!" and hear them again before they can be repeated.

This belated feat of memory encouraged Miss Webling to hope that she
could remember a little farther back to the contents of the letter and
the telephone number written there. But her memory would not respond.
The effort to cudgel it seemed to confuse it. She kept on forgetting
more and more completely.

All she could remember was what Polly Widdicombe had said about there
being no chance to get into a hotel--"an hotel," Marie Louise still
thought it.

It grew more and more evident that the train would be hours late.
People began to worry audibly about the hotels that would probably
refuse them admission. At length they began to stroll toward the
dining-car for an early dinner.

Marie Louise, to make sure of the meal and for lack of other
employment, went along. There was no queue in the corridor now. She
did not have to take That Man's place. She found one at a little empty
table. But by and by he appeared, and, though there were other vacant
seats, he sat down opposite her.

She could hardly order the conductor to eject him. In fact, seeing
that she owed him for her seat-- It suddenly smote her that he mus