She opened the large box and read the card lying on the top: 

    These are my wedding gifts to you, dear.  Put them on and come as
    soon as possible to the one who loves you better than anything
    else in life.

TRYON

Her eyes shone brightly and her cheeks grew rosy red as she lifted out from its tissue-paper wrappings a long, rich coat of Alaska seal, with exquisite brocade lining.  She put it on and stood a moment looking at herself in the glass.  She felt like one who had for a long time lost her identity, and has suddenly had it restored.  Such garments had been ordinary comforts of her former life.  She had not been warm enough in the coarse black coat.

The other box contained a beautiful hat of fur to match the coat.  It was simply trimmed with one long, beautiful black plume, and in shape and general appearance was like the hat he had borrowed for her use in the fall.  She smiled happily as she set it upon her head, and then laughed outright as she remembered her shabby silk gloves.  Never mind.  She could take them off when she reached the church.

She packed the little black dress into the suit-case, folded the felt hat on the top with a tender pat, and, putting on her gloves, hurried down to the one who waited for her.

The matron had gone upstairs to the linen closet and left the girl with the discontented upper lip in charge in the office.  The latter watched the elegant lady in the rich furs come down the hall from the elevator, and wondered who she was and why she had been upstairs.  Probably to visit some poor protegee, she thought.  The girl caught the love-light in the eyes of Tryon Dunham as he rose to meet his bride, and she recognized him as the same man who had been in close converse with the cheaply dressed girl in the parlor an hour before, and sneered as she wondered what the fine lady in furs would think if she knew about the other girl.  Then they went out to the carriage, past the baggy, rubbered man, who shrank back suddenly behind a stone column and watched them.

As Dunham shut the door, he looked back just in time to see a slight man, with dark eyes and hair, hurry up and touch the baggy man on the shoulder.  The latter pointed toward their carriage.

“See!” said Dunham.  “I believe those are the men who were hovering around the house last night.”

The girl leaned forward to look, and then drew back with an exclamation of horror as the carriage started.

“Oh, that man is my cousin Richard,” she cried.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and a look of determination settled into his face.

“Perfectly,” she answered, looking out again.  “Do you suppose he has seen me?”

“I suppose he has, but we’ll soon turn the tables.”  He leaned out and spoke a word to the driver, who drew up around the next corner in front of a telephone pay-station.

“Come with me for just a minute, dear.  I’ll telephone to a detective bureau where they know me and have that man watched.  He is unsafe to have at large.”  He helped her out and drew her arm firmly within his own.  “Don’t be afraid any more.  I will take care of you.”