He made no reply unless a perfunctory touch of his hat and an impatient mutter could be called a reply; and he was swallowed up by the doorway and admitted by the doorman with a familiar nod and a grin which it was as well, he thought, that Sally did not see. She would not have been surprised if she had seen. Everett had hardly disappeared when the lurking figure left its post in the shadows and advanced toward Sally. She saw it and braced herself for the encounter. In the matter of encounters that lonely street was doing pretty well. For an instant she meditated flight, but instantly decided against it. The man must have known, from her attitude, what was passing in her mind, for he spoke when he was but halfway across. "Sally," he said gently, "you needn't be frightened. It--" Whereupon Sally behaved in a most peculiar and reprehensible manner. At the sound of the voice she had stiffened; but now she cast herself at the man and seized his arm with both her hands. "Fox, Fox," she said, with a quiver in her voice, for she was very near to crying. "I'm glad. You are an old comfort. You don't know how lonely it was, waiting by myself. I thought I could stand it, but I don't know whether I could have held out much longer. The street was getting on my nerves." "I know, Sally," he replied. "I was afraid it would. And now what is the prospect? Is Charlie likely to come soon? And shall we go to your hotel or wait?" "I must wait. But--but, Fox, it would provoke Jane and Charlie, too, to find you here." Fox laughed. "Then I will vanish at the first sign of them. But I should really like to know how your enterprise comes out. Do you mind telling me, Sally? And how shall we manage it without telling your mother? I suppose she doesn't know the purpose of your coming." "Not from me, although she may guess. I'll come out, in a day or two, to call on you, sir. Shall you feel honored?" "You know I shall, Sally. But how will you account for your call?" "I shall come to collect the rent," returned Sally promptly, "if any excuse is necessary. Be sure that you have it ready. And I shall give you a faithful account of all that has transpired." She had Fox's arm and she gave it a little squeeze. It was a very little squeeze and very brief, but it made his heart jump. "It was lucky for me that you--" And then she stopped short, realizing that Fox would not have happened to be in that street, leading to nowhere, at that time. "Don't you know," he asked simply, with a laugh of content, "that I always keep track of you? Did you think that you could come to such a place as this without my being somewhere about?"