ttonhole,
gave his features a cursory glance, and then shook her head.

"There might have been an old woman come out a while back. Dressed in
black, was she? I wasn't paying much attention. I think she went down
the avenoo," she said, and stretched her neck again, standing on her
tiptoes to view the wedding guests. Her interest suddenly became real,
for she spied a young man standing in the church, in full view of the
window, back against the wall with his arms folded, a fine handsome
young man with pleasant eyes and a head like that of a young nobleman,
and she wanted to make sure of his identity. He looked very much like
the young lawyer whose office boy was her "gentleman friend." Just to
make sure she gave a little spring from the sidewalk that brought her
eyes almost on a level with the window and gave her a brief glimpse,
enough to see his face quite clearly; then she turned with satisfaction
to see that the janitor and the usher had gone back up the passageway,
having slammed the gate shut. Without more ado the girl wheeled and
hurried down the street toward the corner where Betty crouched behind a
tree trunk, watching fearfully for her coming.

"Aw! You don't need to be that scared!" said the girl, coming up.
"They've gone back. I threw 'em off the scent. Come on! We'll go to my
room and see what to do. Don't talk! Somebody might recognize your
voice. Here, we'll cut through this alley and get to the next block.
It's further away and not so many folks passing."

Silently they hurried through the dark alley and down the next street,
Betty holding the long cloak close that no gleam of her white satin
might shine out and give away her secret, her heart beating like a trip
hammer in her breast, her eyes filled with unshed tears, the last words
of her stepmother ringing in her ears. Was she making her father
ashamed? Her dear dead father! Was she doing the wrong thing? So long
that thought had held her! But she could not go back now. She had taken
an irrevocable step.

Her guide turned another corner abruptly and led her up some stone steps
to the door of a tall, dingy brick house, to which she applied a
latchkey.

The air of the gloomy hall was not pleasant. The red wall-paper was
soiled and torn, and weird shadows flickered from the small gas taper
that blinked from the ceiling. There were suggestions of old dinners,
stale fried potatoes and pork in all the corners, and one moving toward
the stairs seemed to