The man strode to her side and caught her outstretched hand. "Cora," he exclaimed, in undertone, "you're the handsomest woman on the street!" If there had been anything more remote from his purpose than this meeting, it was this speech. He knew of her presence in the city, he knew her address; but from prudential motives he did not precisely formulate he had determined not to go to her. "Get in," she murmured, her pleasing color heightening. "We mustn't block the way." Such superior tact in the face of urban conditions impressed him,--he would have stood gossiping, as in New Babylon's sluggish streets,--and almost without volition he obeyed. "The Avenue," directed Mrs. Hilliard. "Which?" asked cabby, his florid face filling the trap. "Fifth, of course," said the lady, with annoyance. It has been remarked that Mrs. Hilliard aimed to be cosmopolitan, and it is pertinent to add that one of the chiefest delights of this, her annual pilgrimage, was to ride the livelong day in hansom cabs. People in the sort of fiction she was fondest of "called a hansom" at least once a chapter. "You never came to see me," she accused, as they drove on. "You can't know how busy I've been." This was well within the truth, as was his further statement that he knew no good could come of calling at the Waldorf at this hour. "You have proved that I should have missed you." "But your card wouldn't. It would have had its silent message. Do you realize that we haven't met since--" "We've met now," he interposed hastily; "and I'm another man." "Don't tell me the old one's wholly gone." "Never fear. I forget nothing. I appreciate what you wanted to do for me--what you have done; but the necessity is past, thank God! The load is lifted--there's money to burn--I'm free, free!" "Dear friend," said Mrs. Hilliard. "You make me so happy." "And I've been honored," he exulted. "I lunched to-day with our great leader--and, Cora, whatever they say against him, he is indeed great--and he was more than kind." It was near his lips to hint of the rosy future, but he spoke instead of a lesser, though nearer prize, which the day had assured. "He believes in me, and he has asked me to return home by the governor's own special train!" "I knew it, I knew it. I was sure that they would appreciate you at the last. I've seen the papers, too, and I'm so proud. I want the people at home to know that the big outside world is awake to your importance. Even New York journalism pays its tribute." "Did you--er--read all the papers? One has to be Jekyll or Hyde, you know," he added, appropriating the Boss's illustration without compunction. "Some of them were--facetious." "Indeed I did not. I only skimmed the horrid ones; but the others I read through and through, and sent them home. I threw the spiteful ones away. They were jealous of your success." He smiled a little at this. "Not rabidly jealous, I guess."