When the people were leaving the steamer to go on the tug, she came up to him. It was easier to bear another turn of the rack than be utterly dropped out of remembrance. "We part here, Mr. Neckart," with an admirably cordial little smile, holding out her gloved hand. Neckart stammered with sudden remorse and pity: "'Pon my soul, Miss Fleming, I forgot that you were going ashore! Forgive me. But a man reprieved with the axe at his neck can't be expected to have his senses at call." "You go back, then?" "Oh, immediately! I must regain my--my work. What can I do for you?" zealously. "Your baggage, now? There will be nothing dutiable, of course. Will you have it sent to London or direct to the Continent? You told me your plans, but--" "You have forgotten them," smiling. "The baggage is already on its way. You forget I am one of the capable, self-reliant sisterhood. No. You can do nothing for me but to say good-bye." Neckart caught her hand and wrung it vehemently, but it lay with its smooth kid covering passive in his palm. He began to say something to her about her art and success, but the words seemed a ghastly mockery and died in his throat. "Oh, I shall succeed, undoubtedly, but in a low grade. My ability is of inferior quality. I know all my limitations," with a sudden metallic laugh. "You will return in a year or two, and--" "No, I shall not return. I shall never see you again," looking for the first time in his face. Neckart glanced beyond her to the strange city, vast and dreary in the twilight and drizzle and falling soot. The docks were swarming with life. Some of their fellow-passengers had already landed and been met by eager friends, and were driven away to their homes. This woman was going friendless into the night and crowd. She was so little and lonely and hardly used! But what could he do? He had not a minute to lose if he would board the Russia. "Miss Fleming, I owe a fresh lease of life to you. I shall always think of you with gratitude." "What I gave you was a free gift," she said in a very quiet voice. "I want no gratitude in return for it. Good-bye." "Good-bye." She suddenly raised his hand and kissed it. "Cornelia!" But she was gone, and in a moment was lost in the hurrying crowds, on which a sullen rain was beginning to fall. Before midnight Neckart was ploughing his way back. His brain was quite clear--no threats of paralysis or sudden age. He lay awake building honest air-castles--new plans for the paper, dreams of happiness for Jane as fresh and sweet as a boy's of his first love. But through them all the kiss on his hand burned like fire. He rubbed it again and again angrily. He wanted no guilty damned spot about him when he came to Jane. CHAPTER XXII. When the door of the hut opened Bruno growled furiously. Mr. Van Ness appeared on the threshold, smiling, benign, a goodly sight, from his blond head and the yellow topaz on his snowy shirt-front to the polished boots.