eagerly and then
turned away so disappointedly.

"A shop girl waiting for some fellow who is to come in a cab and take
her out to supper," remarked two dudes who were sauntering up Broadway.

Bernardine heard the remark, and flushed indignantly.

How she wished she dared tell them that she was waiting for her husband!
Yes, she was waiting--waiting, but he came not.

CHAPTER XXXI.

The sun dipped low in the West; the great crowds hurrying hither and
thither were beginning to thin out. New York's busy throngs were seeking
their homes to enjoy the meal which they had worked for in factory and
shop, for they were mostly working people who composed this seething
mass of humanity.

Slowly time dragged on. Seven o'clock tolled from a far-off belfry.
Bernardine was getting frightfully nervous.

What could have happened to her handsome young husband, who had left her
with the promise that he would return within the hour?

The policeman pacing to and fro on that beat watched her curiously each
time he passed.

Eight o'clock struck slowly and sharply. The wind had risen, and was now
howling like a demon around the corners of the great buildings.

"What shall I do? Oh, Heaven, help me! what shall I do?" sobbed
Bernardine, in nervous affright. "He--he must have forgotten me."

At that moment a hand fell heavily on her shoulder.

Looking up hastily through her tears, Bernardine saw a policeman
standing before her and eyeing her sharply.

"What are you doing here, my good girl?" he asked. "Waiting for
somebody? I would advise you to move on. We're going to have a storm,
and pretty quick, too, and I judge that it will be a right heavy one."

"I--I am waiting for my husband," faltered Bernardine. "He drove me here
in a cab. I was to do a little shopping while he went to find a
boarding-house. He was to return in an hour---by six o'clock. I--I have
been waiting here since that time, and--and he has not come."

"Hum! Where did you and your husband live last?" inquired the man of the
brass buttons.

"We--we didn't live anywhere before. We--we were just married to-day,"
admitted the girl, her lovely face suffused with blushes.

"The old story," muttered the officer under his breath. "Some rascal has
deluded this simple, unsophisticated girl into the belief that he has
married her, then cast her adrift."

"I am going to tell you what I think, little girl," he said, speaking
kindly in his bluff way. "But don't c