“Well, all right, then. When you reach London go to our English branch--you have the address, Camford Street, just off the Strand--and whatever help you may need they'll give you. I've cabled them instructions. Think you can get down to the ship all right?” I laughed. “I think it fairly possible,” I said. “If I lose my way, or Hephzy is kidnapped, I'll speak to the police or telephone you.” “The latter would be safer and much less expensive. Well, good-by, Kent. Remember now, you're going for a good time and you're to forget literature. Write often and keep in touch with me. Good-by, Miss Cahoon. Take care of this--er--clam of ours, won't you. Don't let anyone eat him on the half-shell, or anything like that.” Hephzy smiled. “They'd have to eat me first,” she said, “and I'm pretty old and tough. I'll look after him, Mr. Campbell, don't you worry.” “I don't. Good luck to you both--and good-by.” A final handshake and he was gone. Hephzy looked after him. “There!” she exclaimed; “I really begin to believe I'm goin'. Somehow I feel as if the last rope had been cast off. We've got to depend on ourselves now, Hosy, dear. Mercy! how silly I am talkin'. A body would think I was homesick before I started.” I did not answer, for I WAS homesick. We dined together at the hotel. There remained three long hours before it would be time for us to take the cab for the 'Plutonia's' wharf. I suggested another theater, but Hephzy, to my surprise, declined the invitation. “If you don't mind, Hosy,” she said, “I guess I'd rather stay right here in the room. I--I feel sort of solemn and as if I wanted to sit still and think. Perhaps it's just as well. After waitin' eleven years to go to one theater, maybe two in the same day would be more than I could stand.”