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Thanks, really very, very much, though. Don't _you_ miss it." She thrust
out her hand. "Good-by!"
"I can't pretend to think you need an escort to the elevated," he said.
"I saw what you did to the conductor. I haven't the least doubt you
could have thrown him off the car. But I'd--really like it very much if
you would let me walk along with you."
"Why," she said, "of course! I'd like it too. Come along."


CHAPTER III
FREDERICA'S PLAN AND WHAT HAPPENED TO IT

At twenty minutes after seven that evening, Frederica Whitney was about
as nearly dressed as she usually was ten minutes before the hour at
which she had invited guests to dinner--not quite near enough dressed to
prevent a feeling that she had to hurry.
Ordinarily, though, she didn't mind. She'd been an acknowledged beauty
for ten years and the fact had ceased to be exciting. She took it rather
easily for granted, and knowing what she could do if she chose, didn't
distress herself over being lighted up, on occasions, to something a
good deal less than her full candle-power.


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