The Purple Parasol
"He's an infernal cad for not meeting her," he found himself saying, her pretty, distressed face still before him. "I don't care a rap whether she's doing right or wrong--she's game. Still, she's a blamed little fool to be travelling up here on such an outlandish train. So he's visiting an uncle, eh? Then the chances are they're not going to Eagle Nest. Lucky I waited here--I'd have lost them entirely if I'd gone back to Albany. But where the deuce is she to sleep till morn--" He heard rapid footsteps behind him and turned to distinguish Mrs. Wharton as she approached dimly but gracefully. The air seemed full of her.
"Oh, Mr.--Mr.-" she was saying eagerly.
"Isn't there a later train, Mr. Rollins?" "I'll ask the agent."
"There's the flyer at three-thirty A. M.," responded the sleepy agent a minute later.
"I'll just sit up and wait for it," she said coolly. "He has got