"You said just what I wanted you to say: the nicest things; the things I was yearning for. Quite different from what you are saying to-night." "If you thought of me so much, why didn't you write to me?" "I did. I wrote twice." "I never got them." "I will tell you why you never got them if you will promise not to laugh." "I promise." "They were directed simply to Miss Ruth Heywood, China. And China, I have learned since, is a larger place than Longfields." "Oh, you poor boy!" "And when I was a freshman at Cambridge, I tried hard to fall in love with a girl because she reminded me of you." Ruth was silent. Cyrus went on. "When you first spoke here, a few minutes ago, your voice affected me in a way--in a way I can't describe. It seemed to open vistas of memory, as in a fairy tale. And the instant I realized that we were again together--why--it all came back with a rush--as of sunshine--like a wave, or a flood of unexpected happiness--and hope." "Oh, Drowsy, what charming nonsense!" "Yes--it is nonsense, if that kind of love is nonsense--the kind that begins in boyhood and never dies--that holds to one woman and will have no other." He felt a hand on his arm. In her voice came a gentler note. "Listen, Drowsy. My uncle and I are on our way to a train. I am starting for Italy. When I know my permanent address I will--perhaps--see that you get it--indirectly, but not from me. Then, without committing either of us, if you are still as blind, as reckless and perverse as you are to-night, you can----" "Still alive, Ruth?" The voice came from the darkness and was close behind them. Cyrus was presented as an old friend. He assisted the uncle in pouring the gasoline into the tank. The uncle was in haste to get away, still hoping to catch a train. There were a few words of parting before the motor with its two occupants slid away into the darkness. This parting, to Cyrus, seemed even more sudden than the old one, long years ago. For many minutes he stood looking in their direction. The night was black, and he saw nothing. But in his heart was a rosy dawn. Incidentally, but of far less importance, he knew on what portion of the earth he had landed. [Illustration] XII "INCREDIBLE!" A prosperous, self-reliant man, well built, well dressed and well pleased with himself, sat at a desk in his private office. It was the senior partner of the firm--a well known firm of Fifth Avenue jewelers. Being a wise man, he was wise enough to enjoy a reasonable pride in his own wisdom; also in his own pleasing personality, and in his own good face and figure. Now, sixty years of age, he had, moreover, enjoyed a quarter century of success--the reward, perhaps, of his own foresight in being the son of a prosperous father. He had inherited a well established business. As a leading member of a fashionable church he was grateful to himself, and to his Creator, for these, his many blessings.