"I'm sorry," she answered. "But I can't stay. I must get back, to-night. I'll telegraph father not to come. A blank, please?" The clerk handed her one. She pondered a second, then wrote: Dear Father: A change of plans makes me return home at once. Please wait and see me there. I've something important to talk over with you. Affectionately, Kate. Ordinarily people try to squeeze their message to ten words, and count and prune and count again; but not so, Catherine. For her, a telegram had never contained any space limit. It meant less to her than a post-card to you or me. Not that the girl was consciously extravagant. No, had you asked her, she would have claimed rigid economy--she rarely, for instance, paid more than a hundred dollars for a morning gown, or more than a thousand for a ball-dress. It was simply that the idea of counting words had never yet occurred to her. And so now, she complacently handed this verbose message to the clerk, who--thoroughly well-trained--understood it was to be charged on her father's perfectly staggering monthly bill. "Very well, Miss Flint," said he. "I'll send this at once. And your car will be ready for you in ten minutes--or five, if you like?" "Ten will do, thank you," she answered. Then she crossed to the elevator and went up to her own suite of rooms on the second floor, for her motor-coat and veils. "Free, thank heaven!" she breathed, with infinite relief, as she stood before the tall mirror, adjusting these for the long trip. "Free from that man forever. What a narrow escape! If things hadn't happened just as they did, and if I hadn't had that precious insight into Wally's character--good Lord!--catastrophe! Oh, I haven't been so happy since I--since--why, I've _never_ been so happy in all my life! "Wally, dear boy," she added, turning toward the window as though apostrophizing him in reality, "now we can be good friends. Now all the sham and pretense are at an end, forever. As a friend, you may be splendid. As a husband--oh, impossible!" Lighter of heart than she had been for years, was she, with the added zest of the long spin through the beauty of the June country before her--down among the hills and cliffs, among the forests and broad valleys--down to New York again, back to the father and the home she loved better than all else in the world. In this happy frame of mind she presently entered the low-hung, swift-motored car, settled herself on the luxurious cushions and said "Home, at once!" to Herrick. He nodded, but did not speak. He felt, in truth, somewhat incapable of quite incoherent speech. Not having expected any service till next day, he had foregathered with others of his ilk in the servants' bar, below-stairs, and had with wassail and good cheer very effectively put himself out of commission.