"Half-past eight," repeated Marjorie in dismay, "and it's only a little after seven now. I should say I was early."
The maid smiled, and began dusting the ornaments without making any further remarks. She did not appear to be a very communicative person, and Marjorie decided that she might as well go back to her room, and write the letter to her mother, which could now be a much longer one than she had at first intended. But on the way she suddenly changed her mind.
"I can write later just as well," she decided, "and it really is much too beautiful to stay indoors. I'll go and have a walk in that lovely park. I shall feel much more like breakfast when I've had some fresh air and exercise."
Marjorie had not the least idea that she was doing anything unusual as she ran lightly down the broad marble stairs five minutes later, and stepped out through the open street door into the fresh morning air. The Carleton's apartment was on the fifth floor, but Marjorie scorned to use the lift, which had struck her the evening before, as a very wonderful but unnecessary invention.
Several people in the hall looked at her curiously, and a man in brass buttons asked her if he should call a cab.
"Oh, no, thank you," said Marjorie, pleasantly; "I'm going for a walk," and she passed out, without another backward glance.
It really was a glorious morning, and Marjorie drew in long deep breaths of the keen autumn air, as she crossed the broad avenue and entered the park. She was not disappointed in her first impression that the park was beautiful, and the further she walked among the trees and broad asphalt paths, the more attractive it became. It was the last of October, but the autumn had been a warm one, and the grass was almost as green as in summer. To Marjorie, accustomed all her life to the arid prairie, where trees and flowers were practically unknown, it all seemed very wonderful, and she enjoyed every step. She walked rapidly on for some distance, paying no particular attention to the direction she was taking. The possibility of getting lost never once entered her mind. She met very few people, and they all seemed in a hurry, and looked like men and women on their way to their day's work. Once she passed a forlorn-looking man asleep on a bench, and remembered what Undine had once said about a tramp. This must be a tramp, she felt sure, and she paused to regard him with interest as a new specimen of humanity.
Suddenly she came to a standstill and looked about here. She was in a quiet path, with rocks on both sides, and there was not a soul in sight.
"I must turn back," she said, with an uncomfortable recollection of the passing of time. "I was enjoying my walk so much I never realized how far I was going, but I'm afraid I shall have to hurry now if I don't want to be late for breakfast."
Accordingly she turned her steps in the direction from which she had come, and walked on rapidly for several minutes. But alas! she had taken more than one turn since entering the park, and going back was no such easy matter as she had imagined. The more she tried to remember the way she had come, the more bewildered she became.