the woman who had displaced her, and a firm resolve to
square accounts at the first opportunity. Mrs. Clephane might be
innocent, likely was innocent of any intention to come between Harleston
and her, but that did not relieve Mrs. Clephane from punishment, nor
herself from the chagrin of defeat and the sorrow of blasted hopes. The
balance was against her; and, be it man or woman, she always tried to
balance up promptly and a little more--when the balancing did not
interfere with the business on which she was employed. Madeline
Spencer, for one of her sort, was exceptional in this: she always kept
faith with the hand that paid her.

At Union Station she dismissed the taxi and walked briskly to the huge
waiting-room. There she dropped the briskness, and went leisurely down
its long length to the drug stand, where she bought a few stamps and
then passed out through the middle aisle to the train shed, inquiring on
the way of an attendant the time of the next express from Baltimore. To
his answer she didn't attend, nevertheless she thanked him graciously,
and seeing the passengers were beginning to crowd through the gates from
an incoming train she turned toward them, as if she were expecting
someone. Which was true--only it was not by train.

It had been five minutes past the hour, by the big clock in the station,
when she crossed the waiting-room; by the time the crowd had passed the
gates, and there was no excuse for remaining, another five had gone. The
appointment was for three exactly. She had not been concerned to keep it
to the minute, but the man should have been; as a woman, it was her
prerogative to be careless as to such matters; moreover she had found
it an advantage, as a rule, to be a trifle late, except with her
superiors or those to whom either by position or expediency it was well
to defer. With such she was always on time--and a trifle more.

As she turned away, a tall, fine-looking, well set-up, dark-haired,
clean-cut, young chap, who had just rounded the news-stand, grabbed off
his hat and greeted her with the glad smile of an old acquaintance.

"Why, how do you do, Mrs. Cuthbert!" he exclaimed. "This is an
unexpected pleasure, and _most opportune_."

There was a slight stress on the last two words:--the words of
recognition.

"Delightful, Mr. _Davidson_!" she returned--which continued the
recognition--taking his extended hand and holding it.

"Can't I see you to your car, or carriage, or whateve