Slowly the girl in the green hat approached the swinging door of the
hotel.
She was thinking.
A man more versed in the ways of womankind than Ned Pillsbury might,
perhaps, have perceived that she was also glancing surreptitiously
upwards through the dark fringe of lashes which veiled her brown gypsy
eyes, but Ned was not a trained observer in such matters. To him, as
he sat in the large, roomy leather chair in the lobby, the only
reaction was
(_Continued on page 49_)