"Do you remember driving me uptown an hour or so ago?" she asked.
"Sure I do, Miss," answered the man, touching his cap.
"Then please forget completely where you went, will you?" She handed the man a ten dollar bill. "It is barely possible that someone may try to find out, through you, where I went. Be sure that you give them no information."
"They'll get nothing out of me, Miss," the man replied, pocketing the bill with a pleased grin.
"And if anybody does try to find out, get their name, if you can, and if not, a description of them."
"I'll do my best, Miss."
"I am stopping here. My name is Duvall, Mrs. Duvall."
"Very good, ma'am. I'll attend to it, ma'am."
Grace went up to her room, satisfied that she had remedied her mistake, and began to look through an afternoon paper she had bought. There seemed nothing better to do, during the evening, than to go to the theater. Glancing down the list of attractions, she suddenly saw the name of Ruth Morton, in large letters, billed in a new feature play, An American Beauty, opening at the Grand Theater that night. She at once made up her mind to go. Since yesterday, her interest in Miss Morton had perceptibly increased. And in spite of all, Richard had held her hand.
She was just finishing her dinner, when a page came through the room, calling her name. She got up at once and followed him to the lobby.