"Thank you," and he wrung my hand and was gone. How would the story end? I asked myself the question again, as I sank back into my seat. And I could find no answer to it. But the end was nearer than I had thought. * * * * * It was near closing time one afternoon, and we were finishing up some odds and ends of work, when the door opened, and in came Burr Curtiss. We were on our feet in an instant--Mr. Royce and I--and had him by the hands. He was greatly changed--older and thinner, with an increased lankness of jaw; but he had regained his equilibrium. He was no longer dazed by the blow fate had dealt him. The firm-set lips told that he had taught himself how to face the world and his own future. We sat down after the first greetings, and then there was a little pause. I was uncertain how to begin; I had a horror of opening old wounds which I saw that Mr. Royce acutely shared. "Well, I'm back," Curtiss began, seeing our hesitation and no doubt understanding it. "I soon found out that I'd undertaken a hopeless task." "Then you didn't find her?" asked Mr. Royce. "No," answered the other evenly. "I completely lost track of her after she left Liverpool. I was able to trace her to the station, and to find that she'd taken train for London, and that was all. So I decided that the wisest thing for me to do was to come home. My boat got in an hour ago--and I came straight here for news." Our junior nodded. "Yes--I think you did right to come back. But I haven't any news--at least, I believe that she herself would wish to tell you----" Curtiss started sharp around. "Then you know?" he asked. "You know why she left me?" Mr. Royce paused an instant, then chose the better way. "Yes," he said. "Lester hit upon it, and we proved he was right." Curtiss was out of his chair now; but he held himself well in hand. "And you'll tell me?" "It was nothing that reflects on either of you. It was something neither of you could help nor do anything to alter." "So it's bad news!" and his face turned suddenly livid. "Sit down, Curtiss," said our junior imploringly. "It's hard enough, at best--I--can't tell you at all if you take it that way." Curtiss glanced at him again, then sat down. "Now tell me," he said quietly, but I saw how his hands were trembling. "I don't wonder she fled," began Mr. Royce, shrinking from the plunge. "She couldn't face the world----" "But me," cried Curtiss; "she could have faced me!" "You least of all." "Tell me," whispered Curtiss. "Let me judge of that." There was no resisting him--it was his right to know--so our junior told the story, as briefly as might be. He bore it better than I had hoped. After a time, he was able to talk of it quite calmly, to ask a question or two, to tell us something of his own boyhood, and of the people who reared him.