red-carpeted hallway to the elevator, her head high, her face set.

Down-stairs in the lobby--"How about my trunks?" she inquired of a
porter.

That blue-shirted individual rubbed a hard brown hand over his cheek
worriedly.

"They ain't come."

"Ain't come!"--surprise disregarded grammar.

Nope. No signs of 'em. I'll tell you what: I think prob'ly they was
overlooked in the rush, the train being late from Dayton when you
started. Likely they'll be in on the ten-thirteen. I'll send 'em up
the minute they get in."

"I wish you would. I've got to get my stuff out early. I can't keep
customers waiting for me. Late, as it is."

She approached the clerk once more. "Anything at the theaters?"

"Well, nothing much, Mrs. McChesney. Christmas coming on kind of puts
a crimp in the show business. Nice little bill on at the Majestic, if
you like vaudeville."

"Crazy about it. Always get so excited watching to see if the next act
is going to be as rotten as the last one. It always is."

From eight-fifteen until ten-thirty Mrs. McChesney sat absolutely