in town and hear her again that night at the Trocadero, with hints as
to a late supper; she had received a call from the manager of that most
popular resort, and had rendered his life miserable by numerous demands;
had passed half an hour practising with the leader of the orchestra; but
now was at last alone, tired, decidedly irritable, and still tempted to
invade "15," and give that other woman a piece of her mind. Then someone
rapped on the door. There was a decided accent of vexation in the voice
which bade the one outside enter, but the lady's mood changed swiftly
as her brown eyes perceived standing in the doorway the erect form of
Keith, the light from the window revealing clearly his strong face.
The man stood hat in hand, bowing slightly, unable to comprehend why
he should have been sent for, yet marvelling again at the remarkable
resemblance between this woman and that other whom he had left at
Fort Larned. As Miss Maclaire stood with back toward the window, she
presented the same youthful appearance, the same slenderness of figure,
the same contour of face.

"Miss Christie Maclaire?" he asked, as though in doubt.

"Yes," graciously, won instantly by the man's appearance and manner,
"you wished to see me? Will you be seated?"

He crossed the narrow room to the stiff-backed chair indicated, and
the lady sank negligently down into her own, resting her head against a
pillow, and regarding him expectantly. He could view her now much more
distinctly, observing the slight difference in age, the fuller lips, the
darker shade of the hair, and the varied expression of the eyes. It was
as if a different soul looked forth from the same face. He had never
before realized how little, apparently trifling, details marked the
human countenance, and, embarrassed by her own scrutiny, his glance
swept about the room. Misunderstanding this shifting of eyes, Miss
Christie sought to place the man more at ease.

"The room is a perfect fright," she observed briskly, "but what can one
expect in these mushroom towns? Really I had never been here before, or
I shouldn't have come. They pay good money though for talent, and we all
have to live, you know. Are--are you in professional work?"

He shook his head, smiling, somewhat perplexed at his reception.

"Really I didn't suppose you were," she went on, "you don't look it.
But there are so many who come to me to help them, that I have grown
suspicious of every stranger. May I ask wh