"Oh, I thought you would spend the night." "Now, don't ask me--I can't--it wouldn't be wise if I could," cried Tom, giving his hair an unmerciful combing with his fingers. "No," she replied, regarding him with womanly pity; "perhaps not. And you would like to go down stairs?" "I'm a fool to wish it," he answered; "those fine people will only laugh at me, and I know when I see that magnifico and his popinjay friend about Elsie I shall want to wring their conceited necks. But I'll go--oh, it's no use telling lies! You understand just what a fool I am--I came because I feel as if I must see her once more!" Tom was twisting his hat in both hands, his features worked in the attempt he made to control his agitation; but Elizabeth loved him too well for any notice of his odd manner--she was entirely absorbed in sympathy for his trouble. "Oh, Tom, Tom!" she said, "I do hope absence--the change--will do you good." "Yes," he broke in, with a strangled whistle that began as a groan; "yes, of course, thank you--oh, no doubt! You see, there's no knowing what good may come. But Lord bless you, Bess, if the old ship would only sink and land me safe as many fathoms under salt water as was convenient, it would be about the best thing that could happen to me." "Don't talk so, Tom; you can't think how it pains me." "Well, I won't--there, I'm all right now! Ti-rol-de-rol!" and Tom actually tried to sing. "I say, Bessie, she never--she don't seem, you know--?" "What, Tom?" "To be sorry I was going, you know?" "Elsie? She has been so engrossed with her brother's journey----" "Yes, of course," Tom broke in; "oh, it's not to be expected--nobody that wasn't a flounder ever would have asked! Ri-tol-de-rol! I'm a little hoarse this morning, but it's no matter--I only want to show I'm not put about, you know--that is, not much." He moved uneasily about the chamber, upset light chairs and committed disasters generally; but all the while looked resolute as possible, and kept up his attempt at a song in a mournful quaver. "Well, I can't stay," he said; "I mustn't lose the train! Now, don't feel uncomfortable, Bessie; Lord bless you, I shall soon be all right--sea-sickness is good for my disease, you know," and Tom tried to laugh, but it was a dismal failure compared with his former light-heartedness. Elizabeth saw that he was restless to get once more into Elsie's presence, painful as the interview must be to him, so she smoothed his hair, straightened his necktie and accompanied him downstairs. "Oh, you dear, delightful Tom Fuller!" cried Mrs. Harrington, pleased to see any man arrive, for Elsie had carried off both her victims into the window-seat, and was making them dizzy with her smiles and brilliant nonsense. "I--I'm delighted to see you," cried Tom, frantically, thrusting his hat in her face, in a wild delusion that he was offering his hand, for he was so upset by the sight of Elsie that he felt as if rapidly going up in an unmanageable balloon.