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The
matron
caught
up
a
paper
and
thrust
it
into
the
Angel
’
s
hand
as
she
ran
to
the
street
.
The
Angel
glanced
at
the
card
.
The
Chicago
address
was
Suite
Eleven
,
Auditorium
.
She
laid
her
hand
on
her
driver
’
s
sleeve
and
looked
into
his
eyes
.
“
There
is
a
fast
-
driving
limit
?
”
she
asked
.
“
Yes
,
miss
.
”
“
Will
you
crowd
it
all
you
can
without
danger
of
arrest
?
I
will
pay
well
.
I
must
catch
some
people
!
”
Then
she
smiled
at
him
.
The
hospital
,
an
Orphans
’
Home
,
and
the
Auditorium
seemed
a
queer
combination
to
that
driver
,
but
the
Angel
was
always
and
everywhere
the
Angel
,
and
her
methods
were
strictly
her
own
.
“
I
will
take
you
there
as
quickly
as
any
man
could
with
a
team
,
”
he
said
promptly
.
The
Angel
clung
to
the
card
and
paper
,
and
as
best
she
could
in
the
lurching
,
swaying
cab
,
read
the
addresses
over
.
“
O
’
More
,
Suite
Eleven
,
Auditorium
.
”
“
’
O
’
More
,
’
”
she
repeated
.
“
Seems
to
fit
Freckles
to
a
dot
.
Wonder
if
that
could
be
his
name
?
’
Suite
Eleven
’
means
that
you
are
pretty
well
fixed
.
Suites
in
the
Auditorium
come
high
.
”
