“That’s it!” Tom grinned. “We’ll get on grand. You’re a regular guy!”
“And why not?” Jeanne laughed a merry laugh.
A half hour later, as Jeanne entered the lobby of the hotel after bidding Tom Tobin a heartfelt “Happy dreams!” the porter stared at her for a moment as if uncertain of her identity, then said in a matter-of-fact tone: “Your trunk has gone up, Miss LeMar.”
“My trunk?” She stared. “Oh, but I have not—”
She broke short off. Was she about to betray her secret? She was Miss LeMar. Perhaps the real Lorena LeMar had ordered a trunk sent over without informing her.
Her tone changed. “Very well. Thank you.” She dropped a coin into his hand, then hurried away.
“But a trunk?” she thought. “A trunk in our apartment!” An unreasoning terror swept upon her.
“But only a trunk!” She shook herself free of this wild fear. “What is a trunk?”
What indeed?