She drew back and looked him over. "That'll keep you much warmer,"
she decided. "Now you can go. I've been looking in the telephone-book
for confectioners, and I've written down these addresses." She handed
him a slip of paper.

Tembarom caught his breath.

"Hully gee!" he exclaimed, "there never were TWO of you made! One
used up all there was of it. How am I going to thank you, anyhow!"

"I do hope you'll be able to keep the page," she said. "I do that, Mr.
Tembarom."

If there had been a touch of coquetry in her earnest, sober, round,
little face she would have been less distractingly alluring, but
there was no shade of anything but a sort of softly motherly anxiety
in the dropped note of her voice, and it was almost more than flesh
and blood at twenty-five could stand. Tembarom made a hasty,
involuntary move toward her, but it was only a slight one, and it was
scarcely perceptible before he had himself in hand and hurriedly
twisted his muffler tighter, showing his teeth again cheerily.

"You keep on hoping it all day without a let-up," he said. "And tell
Mr. Hutchinson I'm obliged to him, please. Get out of the way, Little
Ann, while I go out. The wind might blow you and the hat-stand up-
stairs."

He opened the door and dashed down the high steps into the full blast
of the blizzard. He waited at the street corner while three