personal of matters. Nothing mattered but that perhaps he might find
Frances. "You must take me to her," he said. "I must see her
to-night."

"I can't take you to see her to-night. She wouldn't like it. Oh, I
know!" Carmencita made another rapid whirl. "We can go down-town and
get"--she nodded confidentially to her new-made friend and pointed her
finger in her father's direction--"and then we can come back and have
some toast and tea; and then I'll send for Miss Barbour to come quick,
as I need her awful, and when she comes in you can say: 'Oh, my lost
and loved one, here I am! We will be married right away, this minute!'
I read that in a book once. Won't it be grand? But you won't--" The
dancing ceased, and her hands stiffened in sudden anxiety. "You won't
take her away, will you?"

"If she will come with me I will not take her where she won't come
back. Can't we start?"

But the child was obdurate. She would do nothing until her purchase
was made, and to her entreaties her father finally yielded, and a few
minutes later Van Landing and his new acquaintances were on a
down-town car, bound for a shopping district as unknown to him as the
shops in which he was accustomed to deal were unknown to them.

Still a bit dazed by his chance discovery, he made no comment on the
child's continual chatter, but let her exuberance and delight have
full play while he tried to adjust himself to a realization that made
all thought but a chaotic mixture of hope and doubt, of turbulent fear
and determined purpose, and of one thing only was he sure. Three years
of his life had been wasted. Another hour should not be lost were it