"DEAR EVE,--Now that I am away from her, I can see that Cicely is not so well as we have thought. All that laughing yesterday morning wasn't natural; I am afraid that she will break down completely when I start south. So I write to suggest that you take her off for a trip of ten days or so; you might go to St. Paul. Then she needn't see me at all, and it really would be better. "As to seeing you again-- "Yours sincerely, PAUL TENNANT." "Why did he write, 'As to seeing you again,' and then stop? What was it that he had intended to say, and why did he leave it unfinished? 'As to seeing you again--' Supposing it had been, 'As to seeing you again, I dread it!' But no, he would never say that; he doesn't dread anything--me least of all! Probably it was only, 'As to seeing you again, there would be nothing gained by it; it would be for such a short time.'" But imagination soon took flight anew. "Possibly, remembering that day in the wood, he was going to write, 'As to seeing you again, do you wish to see me? Is it really true that you care for me a little? It was so brave to tell it! A petty spirit could never have done it.' But no, that is not what he would have thought; he likes the other kind of women--those who do not tell." She laid her head down upon her arms. Presently she began again: "He had certainly intended to write something which he found himself unable to finish; the broken sentence tells that. What could it have been? Any ordinary sentence, like, 'As to seeing you again, it is not necessary, as you know already my plans,'--if it had been anything like that, he _would_ have finished it; it would have been easy to do so. No; it was something different. Oh, if it could only have been, 'As to seeing you again, I _must_ see you, it must be managed in some way; I cannot go without a leave-taking!'" She sat up; her eyes were now radiant and sweet. Their glance happened to fall upon her watch, which was lying, case open, upon the table. Four o'clock. "I have sat here all night! I am losing my wits." She undressed rapidly, angrily. Clad in white, she stood brushing her hair, her supple figure taking, all unconsciously, enchanting postures as she now held a long lock at arm's-length, and now, putting her right hand over her shoulder, brushed out the golden mass that fell from the back of her head to her knees. "But he must have intended to write something unusual, even if not of any of the things I have been thinking of; then he changed his mind. That is the only solution of his leaving it unfinished--the only possible solution." This thought still filled her heart when daylight came. The evening before, sitting in the bar-room of the Star Hotel, Lakeville, Paul had written his letter. He had got as far as, "Then she needn't see me at all, and it really would be better. As to seeing you again," when a voice said, "Hello, Tennant!--busy?"