Mr. Flint had not been to the office for two days. A sniffling cold had
kept him at home. Claire had rather looked for him to-day, and had
prepared herself for a flood of accumulated dictation. But the threat of
dampness evidently dissuaded him, for the noon hour came and went and
Mr. Flint did not put in an appearance. At about three o'clock in the
afternoon a long-distance call came on the telephone for Miss Robson.
Claire answered. Flint was on the other end of the wire. He wanted to
know if she could come at once over to Yolanda and take several pages of
dictation. His cold was uncertain and he might not get out for the rest
of the week. He realized that it was something of an imposition on her
good nature, but she would be doing him a great favor if.... She
interrupted him with her quick assent and he finished:

"I'll have the car at the station, and of course you'll stay for
dinner."

Claire hung up the receiver and looked at her watch. It was just half
after three. The next ferryboat connecting at Sausalito with the
electric train for Yolanda left at three-forty-five. She had no time to
lose; it was a good ten minutes' walk from the office to the ferry and
little to be gained by taking a street-car. She managed her preparations
for departure successfully, but in the end she had to ask Miss Munch to
telephone her mother. Miss Munch assented with an alarmingly sweet
smile.

Claire walked briskly down California Street toward the ferry-building.
No rain had fallen, but the air was full of ominous promise. The wind
was even brisker than it had been in the morning, and its breath almost
tropically moist.