He entered it; crossed the room, in which there was only a small truckle-bed, over which he stumbled; opened another door and gained the stair-head. He looked eager and flushed and troubled. She got to the driveway and was semi-surprised to see that his car was gone. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. Her confession was still unmade. "My name is Darrell," said the fugitive hastily. "The manager says there is still some doubt. ‘But with more courage in her little finger than in many another female’s entire body. "Close the court, Mr.
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