of awkward error. So when the automobile finally drew up to the edge of the sidewalk outside the entrance of the station, and Reba and her companion stepped out, they were both a little at a loss to know exactly what to do or say next, after they had watched the limousine disappear in the traffic.
For the first time since the solemn words of the wedding ceremony Reba felt self-conscious. She glanced up at the man beside her, then hastily away. The ring she had bought for him was still lying in the bottom of the shopping-bag she carried. How could she tell him about it here on the crowded sidewalk? She looked about her on all sides. People everywhere!
He caught her despairing expression.
"Do you want to go back to your room now?" he asked solicitously.
"I suppose I better," she acquiesced, but made no move to start.
At last, as she continued to hesitate, and glance about, "Do you want that I should see you back?" he attempted.
"Oh, no!" exclaimed Reba. "I think you better not do that! I'll just run up here and take the elevated. O dear!" she broke out, "we never have any place to talk—just sidewalks, and public benches—and there's something—" her face brightened suddenly. "Why couldn't we go into the waiting-room of the station?" she suggested.
"I don't see why we couldn't," he replied.
Before Reba sat down on one of the long, high-backed, oak benches (they found one unoccupied), she said first, instinctively protective of her new dress,
