"I'll ask the agent," he said at last.
"Ask him what?" she cried anxiously.
"If he's been here. No, I'll ask if there's a place where you can sleep to-night. Mr. Dudley will surely turn up to-morrow."
"But I couldn't sleep a wink. I feel like crying my eyes out," she wailed.
"Don't do that!" exclaimed he, in alarm. "I'll take another look outside."
"Please don't. He is not here. Will you please tell me what I am to do?"—very much as if it was his business to provide for her in the hour of need.
Rossiter promptly awoke the agent and asked him where a room could be procured for the lady. Doxie's boarding-house was the only place, according to the agent, and it was full to overflowing. Besides, they would not "take in" strange women.
"She can sleep here in the waiting-room," suggested the agent. "They'll let you sleep in the parlor over at Doxie's, mister—maybe."
Rossiter did not have the heart to tell her all that the agent said. He merely announced that there was no hotel except the depot waiting-room.
"By the way, does Mr. Dudley live out in the country?" he asked insidiously. She flushed and then looked at him narrowly.