At the end of this recital of his vexatious experience Hugh seized her
travelling-bag, and together they made their way out of the hotel.

"Oh, Hugh!" cried Grace, hanging back a little. "What did Mr. Woods say
to you? What did you say? Do you know he tried to speak with me on
the train?"

"Honestly, I don't remember, dear--sister. He's the most muddled man,
though, in New York, I'll bet a dollar. And now that I think of it, it
wasn't absolutely necessary; but when he guyed me about a runaway
match, it paralyzed me, and I had to do something, so I swore that I had
never heard of such a person as Ridgeway."

Grace was too astounded to speak.

"Then he told me of meeting you," he continued, "and that settled it.
Poor old Woods! What a trump you were, Grace!"

"You wouldn't have thought so if you could have seen me when I first
boarded the train. My! I was blue! Fortunately, I did not see him until
we were nearly here. Hugh Ridgeway--Ridge, I mean--do you know what I
did? It will make you very angry!" she said as they waited for a cab.

"Nothing could make me angry." This was said ten seconds later, when
they were inside the cab and a nervous, smiling young woman at his side
was squeezing his arm expressively. "Driver!" he called out, "go
uptown--anywhere--through the park until I tell you to stop!" and
turning to her, added: "We'll have a bit of dinner somewhere and then go
aboard. Now, what did you do?"