As he passed into the street, he stood and stared long in the direction of her hotel, then shrugging his covert coat closer about his shoulders, he took himself resolutely in the opposite direction. Yet it was still well before nine as his nervous step brought him around at last before the Tudor.
He recognized this and was turning about impatiently, when a carriage, which had passed him, stopped before one of the private entrances to the suites on the ground floor and two women alighted.
A maid opened the door and the elder woman went directly in, but the younger stopped and gazed for an uncertain instant down the street.
"Oh, mother!" Preston heard her call softly after the retreating figure. "Mr. Preston!"
"Mr. Preston!" Mrs. Varris returned at once to the door beside her daughter and welcomed the young American.
"Mrs. Varris! Miss Varris!" He colored consciously with his pleasure as he came in under their light. "You were dining out," he
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