eft of him, and pursuit and
recognition were hopeless.

CHAPTER II

The male figure, however, after mingling with his fellow-worshippers
to the corner of the block, stopped a moment under the lamp-post as if
uncertain as to the turning, but really to cast a long, scrutinizing
look towards the scattered umbrellas now almost lost in the opposite
direction. He was still gazing and apparently hesitating whether to
retrace his steps, when a horse and buggy rapidly driven down the side
street passed him. In a brief glance he evidently recognized the driver,
and stepping over the curbstone called in a brief authoritative voice:

"Ned!"

The occupant of the vehicle pulled up suddenly, leaned from the buggy,
and said in an astonished tone:

"Dick Demorest! Well! I declare! hold on, and I'll drive up to the
curb."

"No; stay where you are."

The speaker approached the buggy, jumped in beside the occupant,
refastened the apron, and coolly taking the reins from his companion's
hand, started the horse forward. The action was that of an habitually
imperious man; and the only recognition he made of the other's ownership
was the question:

"Where were you going?"

"Home--to see Joan," replied the other. "Just drove over from Warensboro
Station. But what on earth are YOU doing here?"

Without answering the question, Demorest turned to his companion with
the same good-natured, half humorous authority. "Let your wife wait;
take a drive with me. I want to talk to you. She'll be just as glad to
see you an hour later, and it's her fault if I can't come home with you
now."

"I know it," returned his companion, in a tone of half-annoyed apology.
"She still sticks to her old compact when we first married, that she
shouldn't be obliged to receive my old worldly friends. And, see here,
Dick, I thought I'd talked her out of it as regards YOU at least, but
Parson Thomas has been raking up all the old stories about you--you
know that affair of the Fall River widow, and that breaking off of Garry
Spofferth's match--and about your horse-racing--until--you know, she's
more set than ever against knowing you."

"That's not a bad sort of horse you've got there," interrupted Demorest,
who usually conducted conversation without reference to alien topics
suggested by others. "Where did you get him? He's good yet for a spin
down the turnpike and over the bridge. We'll do it, and I'll bring you
home safely to Mrs. Blandford inside the