o the door. "You'd tell me, wouldn't you, if you were
worried?"

For the second time he stooped and kissed her, again smothering the
words, "Yes, dear; but I'm not."

She stood staring at the glass door after he had closed it behind him.
"Oh, what is it?" she questioned. Within less than an hour the world had
become peopled with fears, and all she could do was to stare at the
door through which she could still see him dimly.

She could see him dimly, but plainly, for the curtain of patterned
filet-work hanging flat against the glass was almost transparent from
within the house, though impenetrable from outside. Was it her
imagination that saw him look cautiously round before leaving the
protection of the doorway? Was it her imagination that watched while he
crossed the pavement hurriedly, to spring into the automobile before he
could be observed? Was it only the needless alarm of a foolish woman
that thought him anxious to reach the shelter of the motor lest he
should be approached or accosted? She tried to think so. It was easier
to question her own sanity than to doubt him. She would not doubt him.
She assured herself of that as she returned to her post in the oriel
window.

The girl in gray was gone, and down the long street, over which there
was a thin glaze of ice, the motor was creeping carefully. She watched
it because he was inside. It was all she should see of him till
nightfall. The whole of the long day must be passed with this strange
new something in her heart--this something that wasn't anything. If he
would only come back for a minute and put his arms about her and let her
look up into his face she would _know_ it wasn't anything. She did know
it; she said so again and again. But if he would only discover that he
had forgotten something--a handkerchief or his cigar-case; that did
happen occasionally....

And then it was as if her prayer was to be answered while still on her
lips. Before the vehicle had got so far away as to be indistinguishable
from other vehicles she saw it stop. It stopped and turned. She held her
breath. Slowly, very slowly, it began to creep up the gentle slope
again. She supposed it must be the treacherous ground that made it move
at such a snail's pace. It moved as if the chauffeur or his client were
looking for some one. Gradually it drew up at the curb. It was the curb
toward the Park--and from another of the little openings with iron posts
to space them off appeared the gir