"I've been looking for you all over town this morning," said Bob, with pardonable exaggeration, "and I believe that idiot Somers has, too."
"Then why should you call him an idiot?" Cynthia flashed.
Bob laughed.
"How you do catch a fellow up!" said he; admiringly. "We both found out you'd gone out for a walk alone."
"How did you find it out?"
"Well," said Bob, hesitating, "we asked the colored doorkeeper."
"Mr. Worthington," said Cynthia, with an indignation that made him quail, "do you think it right to ask a doorkeeper to spy on my movements?"
"I'm sorry, Cynthia," he gasped, "I—I didn't think of it that way—and he won't tell. Desperate cases require desperate remedies, you know."
But Cynthia was not appeased.
"If you wanted to see me," she said, "why didn't you send your card to my room, and I would have come to the parlor."