She went to dress, and reappeared, looking as troubled as were her thoughts. She was very pleasing in her appearance yet, a sweet, kindly woman, well dressed and shapely. She had never been separated mentally from Lester, just as he had never grown entirely away from her. She was always with him in thought, just as in the years when they were together. Her fondest memories were of the days when he first courted her in Cleveland—the days when he had carried her off, much as the cave-man seized his mate—by force. Now she longed to do what she could for him. For this call was as much a testimony as a shock. He loved her—he loved her, after all. The carriage rolled briskly through the long streets into the smoky down-town district. It arrived at the Auditorium, and Jennie was escorted to Lester’s room. Watson had been considerate. He had talked little, leaving her to her thoughts. In this great hotel she felt diffident after so long a period of complete retirement. As she entered the room she looked at Lester with large, gray, sympathetic eyes. He was lying propped up on two pillows, his solid head with its growth of once dark brown hair slightly grayed. He looked at her curiously out of his wise old eyes, a light of sympathy and affection shining in them—weary as they were. Jennie was greatly distressed. His pale face, slightly drawn from suffering, cut her like a knife. She took his hand, which was outside the coverlet, and pressed it. She leaned over and kissed his lips. “I’m so sorry, Lester,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry. You’re not very sick though, are you? You must get well, Lester—and soon!” She patted his hand gently. “Yes, Jennie, but I’m pretty bad,” he said. “I don’t feel right about this business. I don’t seem able to shake it off. But tell me, how have you been?” “Oh, just the same, dear,” she replied. “I’m all right. You mustn’t talk like that, though. You’re going to be all right very soon now.” He smiled grimly. “Do you think so?” He shook his head, for he thought differently. “Sit down, dear,” he went on, “I’m not worrying about that. I want to talk to you again. I want you near me.” He sighed and shut his eyes for a minute. She drew up a chair close beside the bed, her face toward his, and took his hand. It seemed such a beautiful thing that he should send for her. Her eyes showed the mingled sympathy, affection, and gratitude of her heart. At the same time fear gripped her; how ill he looked! “I can’t tell what may happen,” he went on. “Letty is in Europe. I’ve wanted to see you again for some time. I was coming out this trip. We are living in New York, you know. You’re a little stouter, Jennie.” “Yes, I’m getting old, Lester,” she smiled. “Oh, that doesn’t make any difference,” he replied, looking at her fixedly. “Age doesn’t count. We are all in that boat. It’s how we feel about life.”