Letitia again rubbed the window and leaned forward. Her companion could see the outline of her head against the light, as if it were a silhouette backgrounded with gold-leaf. Why should he not marry her? Would he not be a better mate for her than the witless and sickly boy to whom she intended binding her blooming youth, for whom she would pour out the treasures of her heart and reveal the sacred places of a nature that he could never understand or appreciate? She did not care for Tod. Her very assertions of a liking for him seemed to the man of the world proof of her indifference. He could make her care for him. He was certain of it. He was certain that even now she had more real affection for him--far removed from love though it was--than she had for the brainless lad who next Sunday would be her acknowledged fiancé. What was the use of wasting a life in regrets for what was past, for what was irrevocably gone? Alone, he would go drearily on, forever dreaming of his lost paradise. He was so wretched in the isolation of his own accusing loneliness! Life was slipping by him unlived. The future loomed dark and terrible, bereft of hope and promise. He cowered before its vast, cold emptiness. There was nothing that offered him a refuge from its enveloping despair but an affection in which he could forget the might-have-beens that now were unforgettable. The dreariness of that long road would only be beguiled by a loved presence at his side, a soft hand in his. And he would make Letitia happy--a thousand times happier than she would be with Tod. His thoughts reached an abrupt decision. He leaned forward. "Letitia," he said, in a tone the low pitch of which did not conceal a peremptory note. "Yes," she answered rather listlessly, without turning from the window. "I have something to say to you." "Is it that you're going to be married, too?" she asked, smiling. "No--at least, I don't know. Listen to me. I want--" She checked him with a sudden cry, and leaned forward, staring out of the window. "Oh, John--wait! That girl! Did you see her? I'm almost sure it was Viola Reed." In an instant every thought of Letitia had vanished from his mind. "Where?" he said. "What girl? Which way did she go?" "Look out of the back window," said Letitia, greatly excited. "Do you see her? A woman in black, walking quickly. I just caught a glimpse of her side face as she moved her umbrella, and it looked very like." Through the small back window Gault saw the woman--a slender figure in black, the head bent forward under the fronting shield of her umbrella. As she passed a lamp he saw the gleam of blond hair. She was walking so rapidly that already she was some distance away. He pulled the strap, and the carriage came to a jolting halt. "Letitia," he said, turning toward her and trying to speak quietly, "you'll excuse me, won't you? I'm going to get out. Yes, I'm going to follow her--I must. I don't know whether it's she or not, but it may be. Good night."