woman's house to a dinner in this way!
Besides, I am not dressed for a formal occasion."

The carriage had stopped before the door now, and the driver was getting
down from his seat.

"Indeed, she will think nothing about it," Dunham assured her, "except to
be glad that she has the right number of guests. Her dinners are
delightful affairs usually, and you have nothing to do but talk about
impersonal matters for a little while and be entertaining. She was most
insistent that you take no thought about the matter of dress. She said it
would be perfectly understood that you were travelling, and that the
invitation was unexpected. You can say that your trunk has not come, or
has gone on ahead. Will you come?"

Then the driver opened the carriage door.

In an instant the girl assumed the self-contained manner she had worn when
she had first spoken to him. She stepped quietly from the carriage, and
only answered in a low voice, "I suppose I'd better, if you wish it."

Dunham paused for a moment to give the driver a direction about carrying
the great pasteboard box to his club. This idea had come as a sudden
inspiration. He had not thought of, the necessity of getting rid of that
box before.

"If it becomes necessary, where shall I say you are going this evening?"
he asked in a low tone, as they turned to go up the steps. She summoned a
faint, flickering smile.

"When people have been travelling abroad and are stopping over in this
city, they often go on to Washington, do they not?" she asked half shyly.

He smiled in response, and noted with pleasure that the black hat was
intensely becoming. She was not ill-dressed for the part she had to play,
for the black silk rain-coat gave the touch of the traveller to her
costume.

The door swung open before they could say another word, and the young man
remembered that he must introduce his new friend. As there was no further
opportunity to ask her about her name, he must trust to luck.

The girl obeyed the motion of the servant and slipped up to the
dressing-room as if she were a frequent guest in the house, but it was in
some trepidation that Tryon Dunham removed his overcoat and arranged his
necktie. He had caught a passing glimpse of the assembled company, and
knew that Mr. Bowman was growing impatient for his dinner. His heart
almost failed him now that the girl was out of sight. What if she should
not prove to be accustomed to society, after all, and should show it? H