Whatever Max's own feelings, he at any rate conducted himself in the manner least calculated to rouse his companion. He spoke only to give the few necessary directions, and then in a low tone, not facing her, but looking straight ahead. He had slipped her the money to pay her own fare and, the better to deceive whoever might follow them, had told her to buy a round-trip ticket to a point beyond that for which they were bound. With his lemon-colored shoes planted upon his suitcase, he sat beside her, but he kept as wide a space between them as the short seat would permit; and it was only under the discreet covering of the light overcoat upon his knee that he kept a tight and reassuring grasp of her firm hand. At a mile from the county-town they left the car--Mary first and Max twenty yards behind--and then, for the competent young man seemed to have prepared for everything, walked across the fields, under the stars, to a flag-station where, within a few minutes, they could catch a New York express. Arm in arm they walked, but Max never once frightened her by a burst of affection, never once did more than to encourage her by plain statements of his loyalty and more ornate descriptions of the life before her. "You vill _like_ it," he concluded. "I know you vill be happy, Mary." Mary's breath caught a little in her throat. "Ye--yes," she answered. "Only, I can't help thinking some about mom." "Sure you can't," Max immediately agreed. "You mustn't led her vorry longer than you can help it. I tell you vhat ve'll do. Ofer here in the station, you wride her a letter und I'll haf it mailed." "Oh, but then pop would see it, an' he might follow us!" "Don' gif no names or say vhere ve're goin', und how can he? By the time he gets it, ve'll be safe married, anyways. Here ve are at the station. I've got some paper un' pencil und an envellup: I'll tell you chust vhat to wride." He did tell her, and this note, given to the train-porter, was mailed farther along the line: "_Dear Mother_: Don't please worry about me. I will soon be back for a visit, only I have gone to Buffalo to get married. He is a nice young man and his father is rich, for I could not stand to have Pop beat me, nor do other people's work any more. "Your aff. daughter, "MARY DENBIGH." The train, which Max had duly signaled, had stopped just as the writing was ended, and the pair of runaways had hurried into the last seat of the rear car.