“You are dressed all right, Miss Dugan. It is early yet, and the swells will not be out for some time. I hardly think we shall provoke ridicule by our dress. Will you come?” “Oh, I’ve thought I’d like to go there, but I’ve never had a proper escort, and——” “Can you make that excuse now?” “I didn’t mean that, but—but—what will you think?” It was rather remarkable for her to care what anybody thought, as Frank realized, even though he had known so little of her; therefore her fear lest he should think badly of her was a decided compliment to him, for it told that she wished to stand well in his eyes, at least. “Miss Dugan, under the circumstances, I see no reason why we should be extremely conventional and proper. We’ll stop at Shanley’s.” He signaled to the driver, who opened the little trap-door in the top of the hansom and looked down, whereupon Frank told him where to stop. Merry assisted Hilda to alight, paid the driver and escorted her into the brightly lighted restaurant. A colored man opened the door for them, bowing as they passed in. They paused before entering the dining-room for a boy to brush from Frank’s clothes some dust still clinging there. Merry chose to sit in a retired corner where they would not be prominent, yet where they could command a good view of the room. Hilda had asked him not to take a table near the front windows. She seemed to fear that some one might observe and recognize her from the street. Frank wondered if she could be thinking of the desperate fellow who had twice assaulted him. As they entered the brilliantly lighted room and followed the waiter who preceded them to a table, Frank suddenly caught a full-length reflection of his companion in a mirror. All in a twinkling he knew she was wondrously beautiful and striking in appearance. Before that he had known she was pretty, even beautiful, but not till that moment had he realized the full extent of her beauty. She had a carriage that was graceful and queenly, a figure that Venus herself might envy, a finely shaped head, an abundance of dark hair and a complexion that all the arts of make-up could not imitate. Frank saw some of the people at the tables turn to look at Hilda, the men admiringly, the women not without a show of envy. When they were seated they fell to chatting again. “It’s all so strange,” said the girl. “My last memory of you is as I saw you walking down that old wood road and vanishing into the forest. I thought it probable we might never meet again.” “This world is very small, after all,” he said. “They say no one realizes this so well as a person who has done a wrong act and tries to get away somewhere where no one will know about it or ever hear that it happened.” Again he fancied that she showed signs of confusion and distress, and he wondered if he had touched upon an unpleasant point. He hastened to continue: