m.

Quin, who had resolutely kept his course as long as he had been sure of
his steady progress toward success, lost his head completely at this
sudden collapse of his hopes, and took the first train for New York. A
sudden mad necessity was upon him to see Eleanor at once. One look of
encouragement, one word of hope from her, and he would rush back to port
and gladly begin the voyage all over again.

He arrived at the Eighty-second Street apartment about six o'clock in the
evening, and, after studying the dingy name-plates, took the five flights
of stairs with uncommendable speed, and presented himself at the rear
door on the sixth floor.

As he waited for an answer to his ring, he wondered if he had not made a
mistake about the name on the door-plate. The narrow dark hall, permeated
with a smell of onions and cabbage, was all too familiar to him, but it
was not at all the proper setting for Eleanor. His bewilderment increased
when the door was opened by a white-aproned figure, who after a moment of
blank amazement seized his hand in both of hers and pressed it
rapturously.

At least, that was what Quin imagined took place; but when, a moment
later, he sat opposite a composed young lady who had removed her impulse
with her apron, he knew that he must have been mistaken. She was still
his adored Miss Nell, but with a difference that carried her leagues away
from him. He knew how to cope with the hot-headed, rebellious Miss Nell;
with the teasing, indifferent, provocative Miss Nell; and even with the
disconsolate little Miss Nell who had wept against his shoulder coming
home from Chicago. But in the presence of this beautiful, grown-up,
self-contained young lady he felt thoroughly awkward and ill at ease. Had
it not been for the warmth of her smile and the eagerness with which she
plied him with questions, his courage would have failed him utterly.

"Now tell me all about everything!" she urged. "You are the first human
being I've seen from home for four mortal months. How's everybody at
grandmother's? Has Aunt Enid come home? How are Rose and the children?"

"One at a time!" protested Quin. "Tell me first about yourself. What sort
of a place is this you are living in?"

"You mustn't criticize our suite!" she said gaily. "This is a combination
bedroom, dining-room, and kitchen. I am the cook and housemaid, and Papa
Claude is the butler. You ought to see the way I've learned to cook on
the chafing-dish!"

Quin was