A little later, I said:
“Now I must go over to my old room and have my trunk and some other things I left there brought over, and I must tell Mrs. Whitehouse, the landlady, as she expects me back to-day.”
“Well, don’t be long,” said Paul. “I’m afraid you will slip through my arms just as I have found you.”
Mrs. Whitehouse, the landlady, met me at the door. I told her I was going to move over to Fourteenth Street, to Paresis Row. She threw up her hands and exclaimed:
“Lands sakes! That is no place for a girl to live, and I have no use for them artists. They are a half-crazy lot, and never have a cent to bless themselves with. If I were a young and pretty girl like you, Miss Ascough, I would not waste my time on the likes of them. Now there’s been a fine-looking gent calling for you the last two days, and I told him you’d be back to-day. He’s a real swell, and if you’d take my advice, you’d get right next to him.”
Even as she spoke the front doorbell rang. She opened the door, and there was Reggie! I was standing at the bottom of the stairs, but when I saw him, I fled into the parlor. He came after me, with his arms outstretched. I found myself staring across at him, as if I were looking at a stranger.
“Marion,” he cried, “I’ve come to bring you home.”
I backed away from him.
“No, no, Reggie, I don’t want you to touch me,” I said. “Go away! I tell you go away!”
“You don’t understand,” said Reggie. “I’ve come to take you home. You’ve won out. I’m going to marry you!”