ten hurt and
said sharp, bitter things that made her appear hard and heartless.

As a matter of fact, in approaching her in the belief that he was
addressing an entirely different person, Sam had got nearer to the real
Anita Flagg than had any other man. And so--when on arriving at the
office the next morning, which was a Friday, he received a telegram
reading, "Arriving to-morrow nine-thirty from Greenwich; the day cannot
begin too soon; don't forget you promised to meet me. Anita Flagg "--he
was able to reply: "Extremely sorry; but promise made to a different
person, who unfortunately has since died!"'

When Anita Flagg read this telegram there leaped to her lovely eyes
tears that sprang from self-pity and wounded feelings. She turned
miserably, appealingly to Helen Page.

"But why does he do it to me?" Her tone was that of the bewildered child
who has struck her head against the table, and from the naughty table,
without cause or provocation, has received the devil of a bump.

Before Miss Page could venture upon an explanation, Anita Flagg had
changed into a very angry young woman.

"And what's more," she announced, "he can't do it to me!"

She sent her telegram back again as it was, word for word, but this time
it was signed, "Sister Anne."

In an hour the answer came: "Sister Anne is the person to whom I refer.
She is dead."

Sam was not altogether at ease at the outcome of his adventure. It was
not in his nature to be rude--certainly not to a woman, especially not
to the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. For, whether her name
was Anita or Anne, about her beauty there could be no argument; but he
assured himself that he had acted within his rights. A girl who could
see in a well-meant offer to be kind only a subject for ridicule was
of no interest to him. Nor did her telegrams insisting upon continuing
their acquaintance flatter him. As he read them, they showed only that
she looked upon him as one entirely out of her world--as one with whom
she could do an unconventional thing and make a good story about it
later, knowing that it would be accepted as one of her amusing caprices.

He was determined he would not lend himself to any such performance.
And, besides, he no longer was a foot-loose, happy-go-lucky reporter. He
no longer need seek for experiences and material to turn into copy.
He was now a man with a responsible position--one who soon would be
conferring with cabinet ministers and putting a