Kitty hung up her hat and coat.

She did not pat her hair or tuck in the loose ends before the mirror--a custom as invariable as sunrise.

The coat tree stood at the right of the single window, and out of this window Kitty stared solemnly, at everything and at nothing.
Burlingame eyed her seriously.

Cutty had given him a glimmer of the tale--enough to make known to him that this pretty, sensible girl, though no fault of her own, was in the shadow of some actual if unknown danger.

And Cutty wanted her out of town for a few days.