tement of the
morning, and she could not think of the right thing to say.

"No; I will go home," she said. Spoken thus, without calling him by
name, the words had a severe sound, as of one mortally offended. A
sudden access of fatigue and faintness reminded her that she had eaten
nothing this morning.

"You will excuse me. I've had no breakfast yet. I've been at Mrs.
Martin's since daylight. Good-morning, Mr. Millard."

This explanation made her perfectly proper refusal somewhat less abrupt
and direct; but the words were still cold and severe.

"I will call another coupe, and send you home. You are faint," he said.

"No, thank you," she said, and went out.

But Millard followed her into the street, and hailed a car, and assisted
her to enter it, and lifted his hat and bowed in response to her "Thank
you," when she had gained the platform. As the car moved away he stood a
moment looking after it, and then returned toward the sidewalk, saying
softly to himself, "By Jove, what a woman! What a woman that is!"

XXXIII.

A FAMOUS VICTORY.

By the time the coupe reached the curb in front of the Graydon, Millard
had fixed in his mind the first move in his campaign, and had scribbled
a little note as he stood at the clerk's counter in the office. Handing
the driver a dollar as a comprehensible hint that speed was required,
and, taking Robert with him, he was soon bowling along the yet rather
empty Fifth Avenue. He alighted in front of a rather broad, low-stoop,
brownstone house, with a plain sign upon it, which read "Dr. Augustine
Gunstone." What ills and misfortunes had crossed that door-stone! What
celebrities had here sought advice from the great doctor in matters of
life and death! Few men can enjoy a great reputation and be so unspoiled
as Dr. Gunstone. The shyest young girl among his patients felt drawn to
unburden her sorrows to him as to a father; the humblest sufferer
remembered gratefully the reassuring gentleness of his voice and manner.
But Millard made no reflections this morning; he rang the bell sharply.

"The doctor hasn't come down yet," said the servant. "He will not see
patients before nine o'clock."

"At what time does he come down?"

"At a quarter to eight."

"It's half-past seven now," said Millard. "Kindly take this note to his
room with my card, and say that I wait for an answer."

There was that in Millard's manner that impressed the servant. He was
sure that this must be one of