"This is the bridge entrance, ma'am." The chauffeur's voice broke my revery. I had made my decision just in time.
How fortunate it was that I had chosen the Brooklyn Bridge destination! I had only to walk up the stairs to the elevated train that took me within three squares of Mrs. Stewart's home.
"Bless your heart, child, but I am glad to see you!" was Mrs. Stewart's hearty greeting. Then she glanced at my bag. I hastened to explain.
"Mr. Graham's mother is with us, so I haven't any scruples about leaving him alone," I said lightly. "It's so far over here I thought I would stay the night with you, so that we could have the good long visit I promised you when I was here last."
"That's splendid," she agreed heartily, "and I'll wager you can't guess who's here."
My prophetic soul told me the answer even before I saw the tall figure emerge from an immense easy chair which had effectually concealed him.
I was to bid Jack good-by after all.
Mrs. Stewart closed the door behind her softly as Jack came over to my side.
"What is the matter, Margaret?" he said tensely.
"Nothing at all." I told the falsehood gallantly, but it did not convince Jack.