A brief item in the “Personal and Society” column of an afternoon newspaper apprised Bruce a few days later of the departure of Mr. Franklin Mills and Miss Leila Mills for the Mediterranean, they having abandoned their proposed trip to Bermuda for the longer voyage. Bruce wondered a little at the change of plans, suspecting that it might in some degree be a disciplinary measure for Leila’s benefit, a scheme for keeping her longer under her father’s eye. He experienced a curious new loneliness at the thought of their absence and then was impatient to find himself giving them a second thought. A month earlier he would have been relieved by the knowledge that Mills was gone and that the wide seas rolled between them. An amazing thing, this! To say they were nothing to him did not help now as in those first months after he had established himself in Mills’s town. They meant a good deal to him and perhaps he meant something to them. It was very odd indeed how he and the Millses circled about each other. As he put down the newspaper a note was brought to him at his apartment by Mills’s chauffeur. It read: Dear Bruce: You said I might; I can’t just Mr. Storrs you! Trunks at the station and Dada waiting at the front door. I couldn’t bear the idea of writing you a note you’d read while I was still in town--so please consider that I’m throwing you a kiss from the tail end of the observation car. I could never, never have had the courage to _say_ my thanks to you--if I tried I’d cry and make a general mess of it. But--I want you to _know_ that I do appreciate it--what you did--in saving my life and every little thing! I’d probably have died all right enough in the frightful cold if you hadn’t found me. I really didn’t know till yesterday, when I wormed it out of Dada, just how it all happened! I’m simply crushed! I promise I’ll never do such a thing again. Thank you _loads_, and be sure I’ll never forget. I wish you were my big brother; I’d just adore being a nice, good little sister to you. Love and kisses, from Leila.