She picked it up.

It was on the stationery of another fashionable hotel, evidently written by one of those who lounge in, and on the strength of a small bill in the cafe use the writing room.

In a man's hand was the name, "Mrs.Anita Douglas, The Melcombe Apartments, City" Before she realized it, Constance had pulled out the card inside and glanced at it.

It read: MY DEAREST A----: Can you meet us in the Vanderveer to-morrow afternoon at four?
Bring along your little friend.
With many * * * * Yours, ?
?
?
?
?
Mechanically Constance crumpled the card and the envelope in her hand and held them as she regarded the passing throng, intending to throw them away when she passed a scrap basket on the way out.
Still, it was a fascinating scene, this of the comedy and tragedy of human weaknesses, and she stayed much longer than she had intended.

One by one the people had either gone to dinner in the main dining-room or elsewhere and Constance had nearly decided on going, too.
She was looking down the corridor toward the desk when she saw something that caused her to change her mind.