In the late evening the lights from the restless, crowded city began to twinkle in the distance, and shortly another living freight was borne safely within its shelter.  Mr. Winthrop had met a friend who came into the car, a station or two back, and had grown so absorbed in conversation that he paid no heed to the people hurrying out into the night.  Mrs. Flaxman was aroused by the commotion and glanced around uneasily, but did not like to interrupt Mr. Winthrop’s eager conversation.  Besides, she comforted herself with the belief that our train would probably lay in New York for the night.  At last Mr. Winthrop came to escort us out.  “I believe we have no time to spare.  I did not notice that we had reached our terminus.”

“It is no use denying the fact; men are greater talkers than women,” I remarked seriously.

“Why so?” he asked, pausing with satchel suspended, awaiting my answer.

“Why, no two women on the continent would get so absorbed in each other as to forget they had reached their journey’s end, and had need to be in a hurry.”

“Probably not; their topics would be too trivial to claim so much attention.”

I found the reply unanswerable, and hastened after Mrs. Flaxman, who was already out of sight.  When we reached the door the cars were in motion.—­“What shall we do?” I cried, anxiously.  “I could never get off while the cars were moving.”  I caught a glimpse of Mrs. Flaxman’s scared face as we went past.

“Leave me and go to Mrs. Flaxman.  A man can jump easily, I am sure,” I pleaded, finding that we were moving out of the station, and actually on the road again.

“And what will you do?” he asked very calmly.

“I have plenty of money in my pocket, and can pay my way back by the next train,” I said, hurriedly.

“You would travel alone at midnight to save Mrs. Flaxman a trifling anxiety?”

“I won’t be frightened, and she will be so worried there, all alone among strangers,” I pleaded.

“Mrs. Flaxman knows our hotel.  She will be safe when she reaches there, which will be in a few minutes now.  So you need not be troubled about her.  I shall not leave you,” he said, decidedly.

We went back into the car, which was nearly empty; but, some way, I felt as content and safe as if we had joined Mrs. Flaxman at the hotel.  Mr. Winthrop sat near, but he did not seem in a mood just then for conversation.  I think he felt chagrined at his carelessness, but I was wicked enough to enjoy it.  I leaned my head back against my easy-chair and furtively watched my guardian, as he sat writing in a large blank book which he took from his pocket after awhile.  I had never before had such opportunity to study, in repose, the strong, intellectual face.  As I watched the varying moods of his mind, while he thought and wrote, it reminded me of cloud-swept meadows on a summer’s day—­the sunshine succeeding the shadow.  I fancied that the mask which conceals