For, weeks ago, Gloria had noted that regularly once a week Mr. Gratton dropped out of sight, to be gone for one or two days. He was never to be seen Saturday; seldom Sunday; always any day from Monday to Friday night. During week-ends he was "out of town." And, though there were countless opportunities for an off-hand explanation, Gratton never gave it. Others than Gloria remarked the fact; a girl friend insinuatingly remarked: "Better watch out for him, Glory, dear. _Cherchez la femme_, you know." Gloria never suspected any such condition of affairs; she was too sure of Gratton's attentions. But, being Gloria, she wondered. One night she and Gratton were having a late supper together at the Palace. They had been to the theatre and now, yielding to the demands of her young appetite, they sat before sandwiches and coffee. Gloria saw the page as he came to the doorway; he stood, an envelope in his hand, looking up and down the room. When at last his eyes rested on her and her companion, the boy came to the table. "Telegram, Mr. Gratton." Gratton, more interested in what she was saying than in the yellow envelope, opened it carelessly. But in a flash his attention was whipped away from her; she stopped in the middle of a sentence and knew that he had not noticed. A quick spurt of blood flushed his dead-white skin; his eyes grew bright with excitement. He read in a sweeping glance, and before his eyes came back to her they went hurriedly to his watch. "I've got to go, Gloria," he said nervously. "Immediately. This is important." "Why, of course," she agreed. "I can get a bite when I get home." He thrust the telegram into his pocket and came around to the back of her chair. He was all impatience; it seemed he could not wait until hat and coats were gotten. On the way to the street he looked again at his watch. "I've got to go out of town," he explained. "I'll be gone a couple of days." "But this is only Wednesday!" "And usually I don't go before Saturday?" He was tapping at his cigarette-case as they came to their taxi. "Yes. But something has happened." He helped her in and lifted his foot to follow. "Gloria," he muttered, "I can't make it. If I see you home I will miss the last boat across the bay." She was more and more interested. She had never known Gratton to show emotion as he showed it to-night; she was more and more curious about that "business" which carried him out of town. Why hadn't he tossed the telegram across the table for her to read? Here was a shut door, and from being barred a door always invites the more temptingly. Especially to a girl like Gloria. "Why, I can go home alone--" "I don't like it. I--" He ended abruptly and thrust his head into the car, his eyes questing hers in the half-light; the chauffeur with his engine going looked over his shoulder. "Come with me, Gloria!" Gloria wondered what he meant: whether the man was suggesting an elopement or just a wild bit of downright unconventionality.