Dolores herself had to guess from whom they came, just as she assumed John Cabot’s wish that she let him fulfill his promise to Jack “to look after her” until such time as he thought wise to see her. Rufus Holt, who had found and advised the new location, had made no explanation. Even when he had closed her fingers around a roll of five one-hundred-dollar bills, he had left her to assumption. But Dolores _knew_. And, knowing, she was in a way content. Alone except for the Airedale puppy, who had greeted her more vociferously than the rest of her luggage, she relaxed in her sense of an all-protective love and tried to live on the significance of deep-hearted pansies, American beauties and forget-me-nots. At the end of the fourth week a receipt was tucked under her living-room door for the second month’s rental in advance. That it was not for three months--or six--gave her a feeling of anticipation. A month at a time meant that a change might be expected before the third payment became due. With the expenditure of each dollar of her cash-in-hand this feeling increased. Five hundred dollars was a very great deal of money. But even five hundred would be consumed in time by one healthy young woman and one fast-growing dog. An all-protective love must realize that. Perhaps by the time the five hundred was gone----. She had to fight her first impulses of extravagance. Her tendency was to tip unwisely and too well, to order a superfluity of the disguising veils she had taken to wearing on the long river-side tramps which were the anticipation of the Airedale’s mornings and the reminiscences of his puppy dreams at night; to let him grow too fat. Unable to decide what name for the dog Jack’s old-young mind would have hit upon, she continued to call him “puppy” or “pups,” as certain unimaginative people she had known were satisfied with “kittie” for their cat or “baby” for their child. Conscientiously allowing herself only legitimate expenditures, Dolores’ gladness increased, as her roll of bills thinned, that it had not been a thousand, seven hundred, or even six. It might so easily have been more. Toward the end of the second month she felt hopeful--almost sure--that the worst soon would be over. The very thought of it dizzied her with happiness. To see him again, if only for a moment or two----. But she had to be satisfied with hearing his voice. Rung suddenly from her sleep one night, she half believed his telephone call a dream until the metallic sound of his up-hung receiver told her that the opportunity was passed. Until morning she lay awake, fondling, one by one, his carefully covered sentences.