“Harry,” she spoke sadly, “I have just one thing to ask. You must see Charlotte. You must forget me; we can never--you love Charlotte. I have seen her; she's a beautiful girl. You haven't written. She is worried. Remember what you mean to her happiness. Will you go?” That I could promise. “Yes, I shall see Charlotte.” She rose from her chair. I held her hand. Again, as in the restaurant, I lifted it to my lips. She flushed and drew it away. She bit her lip. Her beauty was a kind I could not understand. “You must see Charlotte,” she said, “and you must do as she says.” With that she was gone. There was a car waiting; the last I saw was its winking tail-light dimming into the darkness. XVI CHARLOTTE Left alone, I began thinking of Charlotte. I loved her; of that I was certain. I could not compare her with the Nervina. She was like myself, human. I had known her since boyhood. The other was out of the ether; my love for her was something different; she was of dreams and moonbeams; there was a film about her beauty, illusion; she was of spirit. I wrote a note to the detective and left it upon my desk. After that I packed a suitcase and hurried to the station. If I was going I would do it at once, I could not trust myself too far. This visit had been like a breath of air; for the moment I was away from the isolation. The loneliness and the weariness! How I dreaded it! I was only free from it for a few moments. On the train it came back upon me and in a manner that was startling. I had purchased my ticket. When the conductor came through he passed me. He gathered tickets all about me; but he did not notice me. At first I paid no attention; but when he had gone through the car several times I held up my ticket. He did not stop. It was not until I had touched him that he gave me a bit of attention. “Where have you been sitting?” he asked. I pointed to the seat. He frowned slightly. “There?” he asked. “Did you say you were sitting in that seat? Where did you get on?” “At Townsend.” “Queer,” he answered; he punched the ticket. “Queer. I passed that seat several times. It was empty!” Empty! It was almost a shock. Could it be that my isolation was becoming physical as well as mental? What was this gulf that was widening between myself and my fellows? It was the beginning of another phase. I have noticed it many times; on the street, in public places, everywhere. I thread in and out among men. Sometimes they see me, sometimes they don't. It is strange. I feel at times as though I might be vanishing out of the world! It was late when I reached my old home; but the lights were still burning. My favourite dog, Queen, was on the veranda. As I came up the steps she growled slightly, but on recognition went into a series of circles about the porch. My father opened the door. I stepped inside. He touched me on the shoulder, his jaw dropped. “Harry!” he exclaimed.