"I swear to that." He settled his notebook again on his knee and lifted
his pencil. "Nothing sensational," he added, "nothing annoying; now please
give me your name."

"Well, then, write Miss Armitage."

"Miss Armitage. Thank you. Miss Armitage of?"

"San Francisco."

"Of San Francisco; and visiting the Morgansteins, of course. But going on
now alone to meet the friends who are expecting you--am I right?--at North
Yakima."

There was a brief silence, and she moved a little in her chair. "Where I
am going now," she said, and looked at him once more across the invisible
barrier, "is another story."

"I beg your pardon." Daniels laughed and, rising from his perch on the
chair arm, put his notebook in his pocket. "And I'm awfully grateful. If
ever I can be of service to you, I hope you'll let me know." He started up
the car, then paused to say over his shoulder: "The light for photography
was fine; the old man will double column every illustration."

"Illustrations?" She started up in dismay. "Oh, no. Please--I couldn't
endure--"

But Jimmie Daniels, with the camera swinging to his quick step, hurried on
to the vestibule.