"Would you," she said, "take charge of that overcoat for me and send it back to its owner?"

He laughed nervously: "Is _that_ all? Why, of course I shall! I'll guarantee that it is restored to its rightful owner if you wish."

"Will you? If you do _that_----" she drew a long, sighing breath, "it will be a relief to me--such a wonderful relief!" She clasped her gloved hands tightly on her knee, smiled at him breathlessly.

"I don't suppose you will ever know what you have done for me. I could never adequately express my deep, deep grat.i.tude to you----"

"But--I am doing nothing except shipping back an overcoat----"

"Ah--if you only knew what you really are doing for me! You are helping me in the direst hour of need I ever knew. You are aiding me to regain control over my own destiny! You are standing by me in the nick of time, sheltering me, encouraging me, giving me a moment's respite until I can become mistress of my own fate once more."

The girl had ended with a warmth, earnestness and emotion which she seemed to be unable to control. Evidently she had been very much shaken, and in the blessed relief from the strain the reaction was gathering intensity.

They sat in silence for a few moments; then she looked up, nervously twisting her gloved fingers.

"I am sorry," she said in a low voice, "not to exhibit reticence and proper self-control before a--a stranger.... But I--I have been--rather badly--frightened."

"Nothing need frighten you now," he said.

"I thought so, too. I thought that as soon as I left New York it would be all right. But--but the first thing I saw in my stateroom was _that_ overcoat! And the next thing that occurred was--was almost--stupefying.

Until I boarded this milk-train, I think I must have been almost irresponsible from sheer fright."

"What frightened you?" he asked, trembling internally.

"I--I can't tell you. It would do no good. You could not help me."

"Yet you say I have already aided you."

"Yes.... That is true.... And you _will_ send that overcoat back, won't you?"

"Yes," he said. "To remember it, I'd better put it on, I think."

The southern night had turned chilly, and he was glad to bundle into his own overcoat again.

"From where will you ship it?" she asked anxiously.

"From Ormond----"

"Please don't!"

"Why?"

"Because," she said desperately, "the owner of that coat might trace it to Ormond and--and come down there."

"Where is he?"

She paled and clasped her hands tighter:

"I--I thought--I had every reason to believe that he was in New York.

B-but he isn't. He is in St. Augustine!"

"You evidently don't wish to meet him."

"No--oh, no, I don't wish to meet him--ever!"

"Oh. Am I to understand that this--this _fellow_," he said fiercely, "is _following_ you?"

"I don't know--oh, I really don't know," she said, her blue eyes wide with apprehension. "All I know is that I do not desire to see him--or to have him see me.... He _must_ not see me; it must not be--it _shall_ not be! I--it's a very terrible thing;--I don't know exactly what I'm--I'm fighting against--because it's--it's simply too dreadful----"

Emotion checked her, and for a moment she covered her eyes with her gloved hands, sitting in silence.

"Can't I help you?" he asked gently.

She dropped her hands and stared at him.

"I don't know. Do you think you could? It all seems so--like a bad dream. I'll have to tell you about it if you are to help me--won't I?"

"If you think it best," he said with an inward quiver.

"That's it. I don't know whether it _is_ best to ask your advice. Yet, I don't know exactly what else to do," she added in a bewildered way, pa.s.sing one hand slowly over her eyes. "Shall I tell you?"

"Perhaps you'd better."

"I think I will!... I--I left New York in a panic at a few moments'

notice. I thought I'd go to Ormond and hide there for a while, and then, if--if matters looked threatening, I could go to Miami and take a steamer for the West Indies, and from there--if necessary--I could go to Brazil----"

"But _why_?" he demanded, secretly terrified at his own question.

She looked at him blankly a moment: "Oh; I forgot. It--it all began without any warning; and instantly I began to run away."

"From what?"

"From--from the owner of that overcoat!"

"Who is he?"

"His name," she said resolutely, "is George Z. Green. And I am running away from him.... And I am afraid you'll think it very odd when I tell you that although I am running away from him I do not know him, and I have never seen him."

"Wh-what is the matter with him?" inquired Green, with a sickly attempt at smiling.

"He wants to marry me!" she exclaimed indignantly. "_That_ is what is the matter with him."

"Are you sure?" he asked, astounded.

"Perfectly. And the oddest thing of all is that I do not think he has ever seen me--or ever even heard of me."

"But how can----"

"I'll tell you. I must tell you now, anyway. It began the evening before I left New York. I--I live alone--with a companion--having no parents. I gave a dinner dance the evening before I--I ran away;--there was music, too; professional dancers;--a crystal-gazing fortune teller--and a lot of people--loads of them."