"Of course it is, and they’ll waste time looking for him which’ll give _you_ a good start. If there’s no train now to the place you’re going to, sit in the depot, ride round in a taxi, walk up and down Fifth Avenue, only _get out_ of this place." "I’ll be gone in half an hour," she said, and moved between the trunks and piled up clothes to the bedroom beyond. I followed her and saw into the room, all confusion like the others, every gas in the chandelier blazing. "Can I help you?" I said. "Can I pack a suitcase or anything?" "No—" she halted in front of the mirror, letting the kimono slide off her to the floor, her arms and neck like shining marble under that blaze of light. "I’ll only want a few things. There’s a bag there I can throw them into. You’d better go now." I was afraid she’d not be as quick as I wanted but I couldn’t hang round urging any more after she’d told me to go. Besides I could see she was hurrying, grabbing a dress from the bed and getting into it so swiftly even I was satisfied. "Well then I’m off," I said. She looked up from the hooks she was snapping together and said: "Before you go tell me who you are?" "There’s no need for that," I answered, thinking she’d probably never see me again. "I’m just someone that blew in tonight for a minute and who’s going like she came." "Someone I’ll never forget," she said, "and that some day, if all goes well, I’ll be able to pay back." I was afraid she was going to get grateful again and I couldn’t stand any more of that. So with a quick "good-bye" away I went, up the hall, opening the door without a sound, and stealing down the stairs as soft as a robber. Out in the street I stopped and reconnoitered. There was no one in sight except a policeman lounging dreary on the next corner. Across from the apartment was the entrance of a little shop—tobacco and light literature—and into that I crept, squeezing back against the glass door. I couldn’t be at peace till I saw her leave and for fifteen or twenty minutes I stood there watching the lights in her windows. Then suddenly they began to go out, across the front and along down the side, till every pane was black. A few minutes later, she came down the steps carrying a bag. She stopped close to where I was, and hailed a car, and not till I saw it start with her sitting by the door, did I steal out of my hiding place and sprint up the street to Madison Avenue. When I reached home I was shivering and wild-eyed, for if Babbitts was there what could I say to him? He wasn’t—thank Heaven!—and cold as ice, feeling as if I’d been through a mangle, I crawled into bed.