unconventional as I under the care of a man so exceedingly fastidious.

I was standing beside him. In my excitement, when awakening, I had
started to my feet, but with difficulty maintained my position; for my
head was dizzy with the sudden start from sound sleep, together with the
unaccustomed hour for traveling. Glancing at my watch, I saw that it was
past midnight. I think Mr. Winthrop noticed my weariness, for he said,
rather grimly:

"It is too bad, having you out late two nights in succession."

I remembered his gift for Mr. Bowen, and was silent.

"At the next station we will be able to change cars for New York. The
conductor tells me we shall only be compelled to wait a short time."

"I will rest then until we get there," I said, no doubt very wearily, for
I felt not only dizzy, but slightly faint, and sank into my chair. He
looked down at me, and then said, in more gentle fashion than he had ever
before addressed me:

"I am very sorry, Medoline, to have caused you so much needless fatigue."

I quite forgot my weariness then. It was so comforting to know he could
acknowledge regret for anything, and that his heart was not made of
flint, as, unconfessed to myself, I had partly imagined.

I looked up brightly. "I do not know if I am not rather glad than sorry
that we have shown ourselves such forgetful travelers. It will be
something unusual to remember."

"That is a very kindly way to look on my forgetfulness--rather, I should
say, stupidity." He sat down then, and the short remaining distance we
passed in silence.

We were both very prompt in responding to the summons given by the
conductor when our station was reached. The waiting-room was well lighted
and warmed, and a welcome odor of food pervaded the air. I resolved to
make a little foray on my own account, to secure, if possible, a bit of
luncheon; but, after seeing me comfortably seated by a hot stove, Mr.
Winthrop left, only to return in a few moments with the welcome
announcement that refreshments were awaiting us. I expressed my surprise
that food should be in readiness at that unseasonable hour.

"Oh, I telegraphed an hour ago to have it prepared," he replied.

"Then I was sleeping a good while," I said, ruefully.

"An hour or two. I only wakened you in time to collect yourself for
changing cars."

"And you have not slept at all?"

"Scarcely. I do not permit myself that luxury in public."

I was silenced, but not so far crushed as t