"I'll drive into the park and be back in half an hour, ma'am, if you think you'll be there that long," he said, and away he rolled. She mounted the steps quickly and, after a long and embarrassing search, found the electric button and rang the door bell. A trim maid responded. Justine had fondly hoped that Miss Wood herself would come to the door, and her heart sank with disappointment. "Is Miss Wood at home?" she managed to ask. "She does not live here," replied the maid, surveying the caller with a superior and supercilious air. "I thought her brother----" began Justine, faintly. She felt as if she were about to fall. "Mr. and Mrs. Wood live here, and they have a married daughter living over in S---- Place. I have only been here since Monday, ma'am, and I can't tell you her address." "It is Miss Celeste Wood I want to see," said poor Justine, her lip trembling. "That's the name--Celeste. She was here yesterday, and I heard Mrs. Wood speak the name. Won't Mrs. Wood do as well?" There was kindness in the voice now; Justine's eyes had made their usual conquest. "I'd--I'd rather see Miss Celeste," she said, timidly. "Can't you tell me where she lives?" "I'll ask Mrs. Wood. The butler'd know, but he is sick. Will you wait inside the door? What a pretty baby." She was gone but a few minutes, returning before Justine's dazed eyes had half accustomed themselves to the attractive place. "She lives at No. 1733 S---- Place. You go to the next corner and turn west. The house is in the second block." The day was cold and her bare hands were numb. The wind from the lake cut through her thin garments so relentlessly that she longed for the protection of the carriage, which was not to return for half an hour--and then to the wrong place. What if Celeste were not at home? She could not ask to be permitted to sit in her house until her return; that would be too much of an imposition. She could only return to the street and wait for half an hour in the freezing winds for the cab, which seemed like a home to her now.