e revealed themselves in a sort of baffling warfare of
sauciness and dignity. Paul knew that there were well-held frontiers of
reserve and self-containment in this woman's nature, but that back of it
lay an alluring playground of mischief.

"And yet we are told," she was saying in a low voice, whose music
suddenly impressed the musician, "that--

'Down to Gehenna or up to the throne,
He travels the fastest, who travels alone.'"

"Just at the moment we are not bound for either of those places," he
assured her. "We are going to the Square."

"Why was it?" she demanded suddenly. For a few minutes they had been
silent, and Paul had revised his estimate. She could hardly be as old as
twenty two. Perhaps she might be twenty.

"Really you are exaggerating," he laughed. "I was neither astonished nor
shocked. I was only surprised, and when I tell you why I shall no longer
be a man of mystery, consequently I shall no longer be a man of
interest."

"But my curiosity will be satisfied. Isn't that quite as important?"

He shook his head. His own curiosity was far from satisfied. He was
still wondering why she had no kind word to say for his music.

"I was just surprised to find you there--alone," he said at last.

"Oh!"

Until the 'bus swung into view of the Metropolitan tower neither of
them spoke, and then the man turned to look at his companion and found
her smiling to herself. It struck him that if she would only laugh
aloud, it would be worth hearing. But of that, at that moment, he said
nothing.

"Won't you share the joke with me?" he smiled, and she said:

"I was just thinking of your solicitude about my being alone on Fifth
avenue, after all the formidable places where I've been alone--in
one-night stands."

"One-night stands?" he repeated vaguely after her and she replied only
with a matter-of-fact nod, then, for his further enlightenment:

"You see I am an actress and most of my work has been on the road."

Paul Burton's face did not succeed in masking his surprise at the
announcement.

"Have I shocked you again?" she demurely inquired.

"Shocked me, no." He disavowed with an almost confused haste. "I suppose
I was surprised because the few actresses I have known have all been so
unlike you."

"You mean," she amplified, "because I don't make up for the street?"

"I shouldn't have said that," he laughed, then added: "Now if you had
told me you were playing truant from a young ladies' seminary