She looked every way but toward him, saw a policeman, and aimed forthwith for the shelter of his uniform. Halfway she felt her hand seized, turned hotly, expecting the drummer, and plumped joyfully into the arms of a young person of fashion who greeted her with an ecstatic hug.
"Amy! I was never so glad to see you!"
The girl emerged from the embrace, panting.
"I really think you are," she said. "Sorry to keep you waiting. There was a block on the 'L.' What was that fellow saying to you?"
When Jean had told her she peered eagerly into the crowd.
"I find blond hair lets you in for a lot of that," she commented. "He was a traveling man, you say?"
"I think so."
"Sort of sandy, with a reddish mustache? I could only see his back."
"Sandy? I'm not sure. I avoided looking at him."
Amy was silent while they passed to the street, and continued to scan the faces about her. When they had wormed into a street-car packed with standing women and seated men she spoke again of Jean's adventure.