Thomas Hornby looked straight into Lucretia's eyes.
"I've found you!" he exclaimed delightedly. "I've found you! Who's Tom?"
There was no chance for an answer.
"Go and rescue Mr. Hornby," the vigilant hostess had communicated to her husband by a swift glance and frown in Lucretia's direction. Henry had obeyed as soon as the music stopped. He and Miss Larrabee had come to a standstill directly in front of Lucretia just as Mr. Hornby asked, "Who's Tom?"
"Come into the conservatory with Miss Larrabee and me, and see my sweet geranium tree," Henry invited both Lucretia and Thomas Hornby. Another couple approached. There was a breaking up and exchange of partners.
Lucretia saw her chance. She slipped quietly out of sight, and escaped unnoticed into a back corridor.
At one o'clock Lucretia lay wide awake, reviewing one after another all the novels she had read in the last three years. Quite unexpectedly the explanation of the puzzling phenomenon flashed upon her. Why, she had written the absurd quotations herself, that very afternoon, in the little writing-room of the hotel, to her fictitious Tom! She had slipped the letter into her muff
