Martha Wallingford was a young person of direct methods.

She scorned subterfuges.

Another of her age and sex might have gone to bed with a headache, not she.

She sat absolutely still beside her window, quite in full view of the departing members of the Zenith Club, had they taken the trouble to glance in that direction, and some undoubtedly did, and she remained there; presently she heard her hostess's tiny rap on the door.

Martha did not answer, but after a repeated rap and wait, Margaret chose to assume that she did, and entered.