She was palpitating with the kind of fear that gave her a sense of fleeing through a dark corridor with some one at her heels, and so rode on until her breath caught up and she could relax into a grateful sort of inertia. At Forty-second Street, on a sudden impulse, she left the car, hurrying into Grand Central Station. In its undress of semicompletion, the swirl of home-going commuters caught her, so that she was swept down a temporary runway and shunted finally into the waiting room. At its far end the "Matron" sign still hung at right angles. She hurried to it, and to her relief was met by a new face above the gray-and-white uniform, rather little and old and framed kindly in white. There was a small boy asleep on the couch this time, and the usual frowsily tired traveling public relaxed against various of the chairs. "I want to leave my baby here until I get in touch with friends who have failed to meet me." A quick suspicion of foundling crossed the old face. "We don't take the responsibility of infants." "But this is urgent. I must locate my friends in Brooklyn. I cannot find them in the telephone book and evidently they have not received my telegram." "We don't do it." Then Lilly went gallantly down to her last handful of change, all but a ten-cent piece. "She's the best little thing. Sleeps the night through. I've two bottles of prepared food here in my bag. Her next feeding time is at ten and her next at six--" "We don't keep infants for nothing like that long, madam. I go off duty at seven and--" "I haven't any intention of leaving her that long, just until I get in touch with my friends." With the mound of change ingratiated into the old palm and the little bundle transferred to arms more or less reluctantly held out for it, Lilly lifted back a corner of the blanket. "Wait until nice lady sees mother's beautiful, then she'll be glad to watch over her." Mysteriously, it seemed to Lilly, there was nothing of the button nose so peculiar to infants about her child. Its was tipped with character; so, too, the little mouth in the firm way it had of closing. "Say, but ain't she a beauty!" capitulated the matron. "Isn't she! Isn't she!" "Look at them curls. You ought to enter her in a show, ma'am." "You will see to her carefully until I return, won't you? She sleeps that way always, sweetly and deeply." "Why, I'll sit and rock her myself this very minute."