"I don't know anything about it," he said hesitatingly, "only what she told me. She was awfully upset this morning; red-eyed and white about the gills, and all I could understand was that it was 'all over' between you." He grinned again, but more uncomfortably. "Of course, I knew it was only a lovers' tiff--'make it up and kiss again,' don't you know." His voice and the grin died away under the change in Drake's expressive countenance. "What is the matter, anyway?" he demanded. "Is there a real quarrel?" "I don't know what you are talking about," said Drake, speaking as a man speaks when a cold fear is beginning to creep about his heart. "Well, I don't know myself," said Dick desperately. "Oh, I've got a letter for you somewhere--perhaps that will explain. Now, what did I do with it? Oh, I know! Wait a moment!" He ran into the house, and Drake waited, mechanically stroking his horse's sweating neck. Dick came out and held out a letter. "She gave me this for you." Drake opened the letter, and read: "DEAR DRAKE: I may call you so for the last time. I am writing to tell you that our engagement must come to an end. I have found that I have, that we both have, made a mistake. You, who are so quick to understand, will know, even as you read this, that I have discovered all that you have kept secret from me, and that, now I know it all, it is impossible, quite impossible, that I should----" Here a line was hastily scratched through. "I want you to believe that I don't blame you in the least; it is quite impossible that I could care for you any longer, or that I could consent to remain your promised wife; indeed, I am sorry, very, very sorry, that we should have met. If I had known all that I know now, I would rather have died than have let you speak a word of love to me. "So it is 'good-by' forever. Please do not make it harder for me by writing to me or attempting to see me--but I know that you have cared, perhaps still care enough for me not to do so. Nothing would induce me to renew our engagement, though I shall always think kindly of you, and wish you well. I return the ring you gave me. You will let me keep the silver pencil as a souvenir of one who will always remain as, but can never be more than, a friend. "Yours, ELEANOR LORTON." Men take the blows of Fate in various fashions. Drake's way was to take his punishment with as little fuss as possible. His face went very white, and his nostrils contracted, just as they would have done if he had come an ugly cropper over a piece of timber. "Where--where is Nell?" he asked, in so changed and strained a voice that Dick started, and gaped at him, aghast. "She's----Didn't I tell you? Didn't she tell you? She's gone----" "Gone!" repeated Drake dully. "Yes; she's gone to London, to some relations of ours--that is, mamma's, you know!"