asonable thing like that. Her face had flushed but now
was deadly white. And then, by Jove, I saw she was looking for another
chair.

I jumped up at once and moved into the aisle.

"I'm so sorry," I said miserably, "so sorry, dear, I hurt you. I didn't
mean ever to speak of the pajamas. I knew you wanted to forget about the
other night, and I knew you wanted _me_ to forget, too--"

"Oh, please--" She shrank back, her beautiful eyes like those of a
frightened deer. But it was the last car, and I blocked the aisle. I
didn't realize at the time that I was doing it. It came to me afterward,
and was one of the things I kicked myself about for hours, more or less.

Just at the moment I was so dashed wild about setting myself right with
her. The only other thing I had presence of mind to remember was the
nearness about us of a lot of beady-eyed cats, and so I drew nearer and
lowered my voice so none could hear. For I had another feeling of
inspiration as to what really was the matter with her!

Matter! I should say, rather! She was beginning to look
angry--splendidly angry--her eyes just blazing blue fire. I knew I would
have to get in my explanation quickly, and what's more, if what Pugsley
thought was true, I would have to hit the jolly nail on the head or else
everything was off, you know.

"Why, Frances--sweetheart," I pleaded softly--just loud enough for her
to hear above the train, "I know you are put out with me because you
found me gone the next morning, but honestly, dear, I acted for the
best--indeed, I did." And to be on the safe side, I profited by another
inspiration: "And, my darling girl, I'll never mention the pajamas and
the other night--never any more--as long as we live, nor the cigarettes
nor cigars nor whisky. Why, I don't care if you--"

"Tarrytown--all out for Tarrytown!" came in a high tenor voice from the
end of the car, and something bowled down the aisle and brushed me
aside. It was the frump.

"Come on, Frances!" she exclaimed sharply; "our station." Next instant
they were streaking it for the door, with me a good second. I saw
Frances look behind once with--oh, such a look! Dashed if it didn't
shrivel me, you know--that sort. And, by Jove, I knew Pugsley was right,
and that I had failed to put the ball over!

I was not six feet behind as they scrambled through the station to the
other side where a large car stood panting. I saw Frances clutch the
frump's arm and whisper something, and I h