“The train leaves at eleven thirty,” she whispered. It was a few minutes past ten now. Should she go and tell the girl? She had not been instructed in this regard. What sort of an affair was this she was getting into, anyway? Was this girl hiding from her people, attempting to run away? The man had looked rough enough, but he had looked honest, too.
She had wandered about the place in uncertainty for another half hour. Then a kindly faced women, in a sort of uniform and a strange hat with gold lettered “Seaman’s Rest” on its band, accosted her.
“Why, Meg!” she exclaimed. “You still here? The train leaves at eleven-thirty.”
There it was again. This time she did not forget.
“Oh! All right!” she exclaimed and turning hurried away as if to make a train.
An hour later, still very much puzzled and not a little worried, she returned to the locker room, took off the borrowed clothes, gave the wonderful fox fur a loving pat, deposited it with the coat and hat, then locked the door.
After that she went to her own locker, put on her wraps preparatory to going to lunch, then walked over to the elevator.
A moment’s wait brought her car to her. The other girl was still operating skillfully. Florence pressed the locker key into the girl’s hand and stepped to the back of the car. Five minutes later she found herself in the crisp air of a midwinter day.
“And to think,” she whispered to herself, “that I’d do that for a total stranger.”
As she ate her lunch a resolve, one of the strongest she had ever made, formed itself in her mind. She would become acquainted with her mysterious double and would learn her secret.