"Underwood, West Hills, N.J.," and flew to the elevator, which had
already swallowed her baggage and the boys. Up to suite Number 625 and 6
she was conducted by her blue-clad attendants, who opened the windows,
pushed the furniture about--then waited; who fetched ice water, drew
down shades--and waited; who closed the windows, drew up the shades,
shifted the baggage from sofa to armchair, unbuckled the straps of a
suitcase, indicated the telephone--and waited; who put the bags on the
bed, opened the windows, pushed the furniture back against the wall--and
waited. Marjorie viewed all these manoeuvres with amused but
unsophisticated eyes. She smiled serenely at the smiling bellboys--while
they waited. She thanked them prettily for their assistance--and they
waited. She dismissed them still prettily, and it is to be regretted
that, in the privacy of the hall, they swore.

She then took possession of her little domain. The clerk, however
unbearably, had spoken the truth, and the rooms were charming. There
could be no question, she decided, of going farther. She spread her
pretty wedding silver on the dressing-table, she hung her negligée with
her hat and coat in the closet. She went down on her knees and
investigated the slide which was to lead shoes to the bootblack; she
tested, with her bridal glove-stretcher, the electrical device in the
bathroom for the heating of curling irons. She studied all the pictures,
drew out all the drawers, examined the furniture and bric-a-brac, and
then she looked at her watch. Only half an hour was gone.

She went to the window and watched the hats of the passing multitude,
noting how short and fore-shortened all the figures seemed and how
queerly the horses passed along beneath her, without visible legs to
move them. Still an hour before John could be expected.