The light from the corridor and the fact that Don had stopped startledly at the sound of the turning knob prevented an actual collision between them. Tim, pushing the door slowly shut behind him, viewed Don questioningly. "Hello," he said, "where are you going?" "For a walk," replied Don. "Why the coat and umbrella? And--oh, I see!" Tim's glance took in the bag and comprehension dawned. "So that's it, eh?" There was an instant of silence during which Tim closed the door and leaned against it, hands in pockets and a thoughtful scowl on his face. Finally: "Yes, that's it," said Don defiantly. "I'm off for home." "What's the big idea?" "You know well enough, Tim. I--I'm not going to stay here and be--be pointed out as a quitter. I'm----" "Wait a sec! What are you doing now but quitting, you several sorts of a blind mule? Think you're helping things any by--by running away? Don't be a chump, Donald." "That's all well enough for you. It isn't your funeral. I don't care what they say about me if I don't have to hear it. I'm sorry, Tim, but--but I've just got to do it. I--there's a note for you in your bed. I didn't expect you'd be back before I left." "I'll bet you didn't, son!" said Tim grimly. "Now let me tell you something, Don. You're acting like a baby, that's what you're doing! It's all fine enough to say that you don't care what fellows say as long as you don't hear it, but you don't mean it, Don. You would care. And so would I. If you don't want them to think you a quitter, for the love of mud don't run away like--like one!" "I've thought of all that, Tim, but it's the only thing to do." "The only thing to do, your grandmother! The thing to do is to stick around and show folks that you're _not_ a quitter. Don't you see that getting out is the one thing that'll make them believe Robey was right?" "Oh, I dare say, but I've made up my mind, Tim. I'm going to get that seven-one train, old man, and I'll have to beat it. If you want to walk along to the station with me----" "And carry your bag?" asked Tim sweetly. He turned the key in the lock and then dropped it in his pocket. Don took a stride forward, but was met by Tim's challenging frown. "There's no seven-one train for you tonight, Donald," said Tim quietly, "nor any other night. Put your bag down, old dear, and hang your overcoat back in the closet." [Illustration: "Will you unlock that door?" Demanded Don angrily] "Don't act like a silly ass," begged Don. "Put that key back and let me out, Tim!" "Yes, I will--like fun! The only way you'll get that key will be by taking it out of my pocket, and by the time you do that the seven-one train will be half-way to the city." "Please, Tim! You're not acting like a good chum! Just you think----"