"Marta's unexpected arrival upset things. I knew that Mrs. Kingdon was interested in my account of her and in her love for Jo; also that she intended to help them eventually, but I did not know she had communicated with Marta during her own absence. Hebler's sudden appearance was the last straw. He insists I am under contract for another of the wild and woolly pictures I am so tired of playing. I am not posted on the legality of contracts, and it seemed easier to dodge him until he should have to secure some one else. You were very nice about offering to help me evade him. Some way the return of Marta and the sudden arrival of Hebler made me realize I had been playing a part. That night in the library when you told me you loved me and asked me to marry you, I was really myself. I was surprised by the discovery that you loved me; but I wasn't sure of my own feelings. I felt I must think more about it, so pursuing my usual tactics I ran away. "On passing Hebby's door, that gaudy diamond flashed before me. I'll leave the theft an unsolved mystery. "When I was forced to reveal my presence to Hebler, I felt that I had balled things up hopelessly and that the only avenue of escape lay in flight--my long suit. "My only solace in all this bungling mess I have made is that I have brought Jo and Marta together. "With you at the ranch and Hebler in town, I don't know how I could make my getaway but for Larry. I have telephoned him and he is to meet me near here, and by the time my little carrier dove delivers this, I shall be en route--for France. I'm weary of movies, and life is a delusion anyway. "I admit it was wrong to deceive you--after the necessity for so doing had passed. You were kind--in intent; still, you might have been a wee bit nicer, don't you think? "Regretfully, "PENELOPE." "P. S. Does it hurt _now_ that I use your mother's name?" He read this letter as one who dreams and is but half conscious that it is a dream. He read it again and again, each time grasping bit by bit the realization of its contents and what they meant to him. "She was right," he thought. "I didn't know what love meant. I do now--now that I missed it. I've lost her more surely than if she were a 'hardened, young criminal.' I shall never try to find her." It was hardly sunrise when he went down to the office. "I should like to speak to Mr. Lamont when he comes down," he said to the clerk. "He has gone," was the reply. "He came down before his call and has gone to the train." "Maybe it is just as well," thought Kurt. "There is really no message I could send to her." "See the picture last night?" asked the clerk chattily. "The Thief, or Meg O' The Prairies. Great picture!" "Yes; I saw it," replied Kurt dismally.