"Poor boy, how horribly you have suffered! But I know you are going to come out of it better and stronger than ever. You are so young! The saying ought to be, 'Where there is youth there is hope.'" She sighed inaudibly, remembering her thirty-three years with a pang. "Besides, you are really lucky to have gone through your hell so early, while you can still reap the benefits from it. For most of us it comes too late and we retire defeated into middle age and spiritual death. But," she patted his head lightly, "I don't want to preach. It isn't my métier at all! I'm supposed to be frivolous! However, tell me, I simply must know before I leave you, why did you run away from the sanitarium like that without letting anyone know, and how did you ever find the hut?" Beneath his laughter there lay an undercurrent of almost fierce despair. "Because I should have gone completely mad if I had stayed another minute. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I was scarcely capable of thought, and yet they tried to cheer me up as if I were an automaton, and all they had to do was to turn a crank. I was supposed to sit on the lawn and drink iced postum and be sociable with my fellow pariahs. Then the radio was turned on every night and those who could still hobble were expected to dance. So wholesome, you know. Half crazed already, the canned music and canned joviality finished me. The jazz sounded in my ears all night. I felt as if my soul were being pounded into a jelly. I couldn't sleep a wink. So I packed my things and stole away without saying a word. I think I had some delirious idea of losing myself and my identity forever. I hiked for the first few days, keeping to the woods for fear of being found. I got my meals at stray farmhouses and slept once or twice in a barn. When I came to the hut I was pretty well exhausted and decided to rest up for a day or two. That's all," he sighed wearily. Anne's eyes were full of compassionate horror. "Poor boy, it must have been ghastly. I scarcely wonder you wanted to end it all. And it was I who awakened you from your first good sleep. Will you ever forgive me for bringing you back to this sordid old world?" He looked up at her with worshipping eyes. "Not sordid with you in it," he caught at her hand and retained it. "You are the fairy princess, you know, who broke the evil spell. To-day I feel--almost healed." The mournful young voice went to her heart. With an assumption of gayety she ran to the window and pulled down the shade. "Very pretty indeed from a sick child. But now I am really going. You must sleep. Later on I will bring you a little supper, your first real meal under my roof, and we will discuss the future. Meanwhile I will give your letter to my chauffeur, who is going into New York anyway, to bring back some necessary things for the house. And now, sweet dreams."