ring them together
again now, just when she and the man she had married were at the parting
of the ways.

Little had the girl dreamed when she first conceived a mild fancy for the
pretty, smiling woman and her silent, humorous husband, that the pair
were destined to decide her future--decide it in a way precisely opposite
to that in which she had decided it herself. But so it was to be.

Mr. and Mrs. Waldo were returning to New York in its waning season
because the decorating of a house they had bought was just completed.
They begged Annesley and Knight to be their first visitors, and the
invitation was given so unexpectedly that Annesley, taken unawares, found
herself at a loss.

"But I--I mean my husband--is going straight to Texas," she stammered.

"All the more reason, if he has to run off so far on business, and leaves
you in New York, that you should stay with us, instead of in a hotel,"
argued Mrs. Waldo.

Annesley blushed, and for the first time since Easter eve looked for help
to Knight. But he was silent, and she blundered on, not daring to pause
lest the firm-willed little lady should seal her to a promise in spite of
herself.

"You're very kind, and it would be delightful," she hurried along, "but I
didn't mean that I was to stop in New York. I----"

"Oh, you are going together!" Mrs. Waldo caught her up. "I didn't
understand. Well, I'm sorry for our sakes. But couldn't you spare us two
or three days before you start?"

"I--am afraid we must wait for another time," said Annesley. "My husband
has business. He can't waste a day----"

"Surely you won't turn your back on New York the day you arrive, the
first time you've ever seen it!" cried the New York woman. "Why, it's
sacrilege! You must stay with us one night. If you could see the
_darling_ new room we'll put you in: old rose and pearl gray, and Cupids
holding up the bed curtains!"

In desperation the girl stuck to her point, no longer daring to look at
Knight.

"Indeed we mustn't stay, even for one night. If there's a train the same
afternoon----"

"There's a lovely train," Mrs. Waldo admitted, unable to resist praising
the American railway system. "We call it the 'Limited.' You can have a
beautiful stateroom, and run right through to Chicago without changing.
If they must go, we'll see them off, won't we, Steve?" with a glance for
the silent husband, "and bring them books and chocolates and flowers?"

What was left for Annesley to say? Sh