Warrington stared at her, dumfounded. NOW what? He glanced cautiously
around as if in search of some avenue of escape. The waiter, ever
watchful, assumed that he was wanted, and made as though to approach
the table; but Warrington warned him off. All distrust in the girl
vanished. Decidedly she was in great trouble of some sort, and it
wasn't because she could not pay a restaurant check. Women--and
especially New York women--do not shed tears when a stranger offers to
settle for their dinner checks.

"If you will kindly explain to me what the trouble is," visibly
embarrassed, "perhaps I can help you. Have you run away from borne?"
he asked.

A negative nod.

"Are you married?"

Another negative nod.

Warrington scratched his chin. "Have you done anything wrong?"

A decided negative shake of the head. At any other time the
gesticulation of the ostrich plume, so close to his face, would have
amused him; but there was something eminently pathetic in the diapasm
which drifted toward him from the feather.

"Come, come; you may trust me thoroughly. If you are afraid to return
home alone--"

He was interrupted by an affirmative nod this time. Possibly, he