ght."

He laughed awkwardly.

"Nonsense, girl! The sub-committee on the cotton schedule meets
tonight--very important; otherwise--"

She shuddered at the smooth lie and clasped him closer, putting her
cheek to his.

"Harry," she pleaded, "just this once--for me."

He disengaged himself, half impatiently, and rose, glancing at the
clock. It was nearly nine. A feeling of desperation came over her.

"Harry," she asked again as he slipped on his coat.

"Don't be foolish," he growled.

"Just this once--Harry--I--" But the door banged to, and he was gone.

She stood looking at the closed door a moment. Something in her head was
ready to snap. She went to the rack and taking his long heavy overcoat
slipped it on. It nearly touched the floor. She seized a soft
broad-brimmed hat and umbrella and walked out. Just what she meant to do
she did not know, but somehow she must save her husband and herself from
evil. She hurried to the Willard Hotel and watched, walking up and down
the opposite sidewalk. A woman brushed by her and looked her in the
face.

"Hell! I thought you was a man," she said. "Is this a new gag?"

Mrs. Cresswell looked down at herself involuntarily and smiled wanly.
She did look like a man, with her hat and coat and short hair. The woman
peered at her doubtingly. She was, as Mrs. Cresswell noticed, a young
woman, once pretty, perhaps, and a little over-dressed.

"Are you walking?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" asked Mrs. Cresswell, and then in a moment it
flashed upon her. She took the woman's arm and walked with her. Suddenly
she stopped.

"Where's--Nell's?"

The woman frowned. "Oh, that's a swell place," she said. "Senators and
millionaires. Too high for us to fly."

Mrs. Cresswell winced. "But where is it?" she asked.

"We'll walk by it if you want to."

And Mary Cresswell walked in another world. Up from the ground of the
drowsy city rose pale gray forms; pale, flushed, and brilliant, in
silken rags. Up and down they passed, to and fro, looking and gliding
like sheeted ghosts; now dodging policemen, now accosting them
familiarly.

"Hello, Elise," growled one big blue-coat.

"Hello, Jack."

"What's this?" and he peered at Mrs. Cresswell, who shrank back.

"Friend of mine. All right."

A horror crept over Mary Cresswell: where had she lived that she had
seen so little before? What was Washington, and what was this fine,
tall, quiet residence? Was this--"Nell's"?

"Yes, this is