ut of it," said Percy, quickly. "You understand me,
do you not?"

"I think I do, Mr. de Brabazon, and I am grateful to you, but I am
afraid it can never be."

Percy remained silent.

"How far are you going?" asked Florence, uneasily, for she did not
care to have her companion learn where she lived.

"I intend to get out at Fourteenth Street."

"Then I must bid you good-afternoon, for we are already at Fifteenth
Street."

"If I can be of any service to you, I will ride farther."

"Thank you," said Florence, hastily, "but it is quite unnecessary."

"Then, good morning!"

And Percy descended from the car.

In another part of the car sat a young lady, who listened with
sensations far from pleasant to the conversation that had taken place
between Florence and Mr. de Brabazon.

It was Emily Carter, whose jealousy had been excited on the evening of
the party. She dropped her veil, fearing to be recognized by Mr. de
Brabazon, with whom she was well acquainted. She, too, had intended
getting off at Fourteenth Street, but decided to remain longer in the
car.

"I will find out where that girl lives," she resolved. "Her conduct
with Percy de Brabazon is positively disgraceful. She is evidently
doing her best to captivate him. I feel that it is due to Mrs.
Leighton, who would be shocked at the thought of her nephew's making a
low alliance, to find out all I can, and put her on her guard."

She kept her seat, still keeping her veil down, for it was possible
that Florence might recognize her; and the car moved steadily onward
till it turned into the Bowery.

"Where on earth is she leading me?" Miss Carter asked herself. "I have
never been in this neighborhood before. However, it won't do to give
up, when I am, perhaps, on the verge of some important discoveries."

Still the car sped on. Not far from Grand Street, Florence left the
car, followed, though she was unconscious of it, by her aristocratic
fellow-passenger.

Florence stopped a moment to speak to Mrs. O'Keefe at her apple-stand.

"So you're through wid your work, Florence. Are you goin' home?"

"Yes, Mrs. O'Keefe."

"Then I'll go wid you, for I've got a nasty headache, and I'll lie
down for an hour."

They crossed the street, not noticing the veiled young lady, who
followed within ear shot, and listened to their conversation. At
length they reached the tenement house--Florence's humble home--and
went in.

"I've learned more than I bargained for," s