"Oh, no; certainly not. I'm going upstairs to wait for daylight. But I thank you so much," and she cordially extended her hand. "You see, I--I could hardly go to the Gayety myself at such an hour." The boy colored, still clasping the extended hand. Something in her low tone had served to recall to his mind those hasty words uttered in the office. "Sure not, Miss Norvell; it's a bit tough, all right, for anybody like you down there at this time o' night." She opened the door, the bright light from within shining about her slender figure, yet leaving her face still in shadow. "Did--did you chance to notice if Mr. Farnham remained in the dance hall?" "Biff Farnham?" in sudden, choking surprise. "Great guns, do you know him, too? No, he was n't there, but I can tell you where he is, all the same. He 's at the Palace Livery, saddling up, along with half a dozen other fellows. I saw 'em as I come trottin' along back, and wondered what the dickens was on tap at this time o' night." The girl made no attempt to answer. She stood clutching the edge of the door for support, her lips tightly compressed, feeling as if her heart would rise up and choke her. She realized instantly that the crisis had arrived, that Winston's life probably hung upon her next decision. Twice she endeavored bravely to speak, and when she finally succeeded, the strange calmness other voice made her doubt her own sanity. "Thank you," she said gravely, "you have been most kind,--good-night," and vanished up the stairs.