To her troubled mind they were driving off into
utter darkness.
"The queerest looking man came to the house to see you this
afternoon, Monty," said Peggy. "He wore a beard and he made me
think of one of Remington's cowboys."
"What was his name?"
"He told the maid it did not matter. I saw him as he walked away
and he looked very much a man. He said he would come to-morrow if
he did not find you down town to-night. Don't you recognize him
from the description?"
"Not at all. Can't imagine who he is."
"Monty," she said, after a moment's painful reflection, "he--he
couldn't have been a--"
"I know what you mean. An officer sent up to attach my belongings
or something of the sort. No, dearest; I give you my word of honor
I do not owe a dollar in the world." Then he recalled his peculiar
indebtedness to Bragdon and Gardner. "Except one or two very small
personal obligations," he added, hastily. "Don't worry about it,
dear, we are out for a good time and we must make the most of it.
First, we drive through the Park, then we dine at Sherry's."
"But we must dress for that, dear," she cried. "And the chaperon?"
He turned very red when she spoke of dressing.
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