About this time, Marjorie, tired of her pretence at slumber, strolled into the observation car, glancing into the men's room, where she saw nothing but newspapers. Then Mrs. Wellington saw her, and smiled: "Come in and make yourself at home."
"Thanks," said Marjorie, bashfully, "I was looking for my—my——"
"Husband?"
"My dog."
"How is he this morning?"
"My dog?"
"Your husband."
"Oh, he's as well as could be expected."
"Where did you get that love of a waist?" Mrs. Wellington laughed.
"Mrs. Temple lent it to me. Isn't it sweet?"