el. He glowed with satisfaction at the thought of her, there, waiting
for him. He laughed at himself and dashed to her door like an eager
boy. The maid told him she had gone out to dine, and his disappointment
was all out of proportion to the facts, as he told himself on his way to
his room.

Why shouldn't she go out to dinner? Just because this night was an
important one to him was no reason why it should be to her. He was a man
she had married for an experiment. He must not let her woman-lure get
between him and his purpose. It was an older, grim-faced candidate for
governor who went to the Waldorf an hour later.

Bob's performance dragged that night. She had exhausted herself in
forced gaiety at the dinner and she was furious at herself. When her
maid reported Paul's appearance at her door, she denied to herself the
wave of regret that swept over her.

A party of friends came back after the play to carry her off for supper,
but she pleaded a headache and got rid of them. She said to herself over
and over as she dressed for the street, "I know he won't come
to-night--he's too busy to remember." But when she stepped into the hall
and looked for his tall figure, she felt a swift disappointment. She
sent her maid on to the hotel alone, on some excuse, and she determined
to walk herself.

It was a cold, crisp night. Broadway was a blare of light, as poignant
as a din of sound. Taxis honked, policemen shouted; bareheaded women and
tall-hatted men hurried to the restaurants, the maelstrom of Broadway,
nearing midnight, was in full tide. Bob turned from it toward the
shadowy stretch of the avenue.

The moon was clear and round, the heavens a blue plush vault. The broad
shining street swept its gleaming length, with the misty lights
reflecting themselves. Uptown the cathedral spires pricked the skyline,
downtown was lost in grayness. Bob hesitated at the corner to buy an
extra from a brass-lunged newsy, then stood an instant deciding which
way to go. She wanted the solitude and calm of the night.

A click of approaching footsteps caught her attention. She looked at the
man who approached, head up, hands deep in his overcoat pockets, his
long stride even and swift. Something about her caught his eye and he
stopped before her in alarm.

"Barbara!"

"Why, it's you," she said stupidly.

"What's happened? What are you doing here alone, at this hour?"

"Trying to decide whether to walk uptown or downtown," she laughed.