“Not home. It is too far. But I have some friends a few blocks away who will take me in. Turn here, please.”
Under her guidance he took the car through several streets, drawing up at last before a large, comfortable-looking place, set back from the street, with a wide, shrub-dotted lawn before it. Several windows were still lighted. He descended to help her out.
She hesitated. “I hate to ask it, Mr. Orme,” she finally said, “but you can catch the trolley back to Chicago. They will take care of the car here.”
He nodded. “But one thing, Girl,” he said. “I am going to find that other Japanese to-morrow. I shall get the envelope. Will you call me up at the apartment to-morrow noon? If I am not there, leave word where I can find you.”
“I will do that. But don’t get yourself hurt.” She let him help her to the ground.
“At noon,” he said.
“At noon. Good-night, my friend.” She offered her hand.
“Good-night, Girl,” he said, and then he bent over and kissed her fingers gently.
He stood by the car until she had crossed the lawn and ascended the steps—until the door opened and admitted her.