had done a tremendously daring thing, though, when he came to think of it,
he had not suggested it himself; and he did not quite see how he could get
out of it, either, for how was he to have time to help the girl if he did
not take her with him?

Various plans floated through his head. He might bring her into the house,
and make some sort of an explanation to the servants, but what would the
explanation be? He could not tell them the truth about her, and how would
he explain the matter to his mother and sister? For they might return
before he did, and would be sure to ask innumerable questions.

And the girl--would she go with him? If not, what should he do with her?
And about her dress? Was it such as his "friend" could wear to one of Mrs.
Parker Bowman's exclusive dinners? To his memory, it seemed quiet and
refined. Perhaps that was all that was required for a woman who was
travelling. There it was again! But he had not said she was travelling,
nor that she had just returned from abroad, nor that she was a musician.
How could he answer such questions about an utter stranger, and yet how
could he not answer them, under the circumstances?

And she wore no hat, nor cloak. That would be a strange way to arrive at a
dinner How could she accept? He was settling his coat into place when a
queer little bulge attracted his attention to an inside pocket.
Impatiently he pulled out a pair of long white gloves. They were his
sister's, and he now remembered she had given them to him to carry the
night before, on the way home from a reception, she having removed them
because it was raining. He looked at them with a sudden inspiration. Of
course! Why had he not thought of that? He hurried into his sister's room
to make a selection of a few necessities for the emergency--only to have
his assurance desert him at the very threshold. The room was immaculate,