"In Fossingford?" in deep disgust. "There's no hotel here. He was to
drive me to the home of a friend out in the country." Rossiter leaned
against the wall suddenly. There was a long silence. He could not find his
tongue, but his eyes were burning deep into the plaintive blue ones that
looked up into his face.

"I'll ask the agent," he said at last.

"Ask him what?" she cried anxiously.

"If he's been here. No, I'll ask if there's a place where you can sleep
to-night. Mr. Dudley will surely turn up to-morrow."

"But I couldn't sleep a wink. I feel like crying my eyes out," she wailed.

"Don't do that!" exclaimed he, in alarm. "I'll take another look outside."

"Please don't. He is not here. Will you please tell me what I am to do?"--
very much as if it was his business to provide for her in the hour of need.

Rossiter promptly awoke the agent and asked him where a room could be
procured for the lady. Doxie's boarding-house was the only place,
according to the agent, and it was full to overflowing. Besides, they
would not "take in" strange women.

"She can sleep here in the waiting-room," suggested the agent. "They'll
let you sleep in the parlor over at Doxie's, mister--maybe."

Rossiter did not have the heart to tell her all that the agent said. He