"I'll miss you," he said. "I'll miss you very much. It won't seem the same here without you." "But maybe you'll be leaving, too. If your plans are taken, you know." "I'd forgotten them. I don't seem to care so much about them as I ought--now they're out of my hands. And I can't count on them. I suppose we'll not see each other very often after you leave here. I'll be leaving your aunt's in a few days. My--my people are coming home." "Oh! You'll be glad of that." "Yes." And again, "Yes." He let his eyes dwell hungrily on her, as though this were indeed their farewell, drinking in every detail of her--the dark curling wisps straying from under her hat, the slate-gray eyes, a little sad just then, the slender girlish figure that seemed so frail. For that moment there were no Shirley, no law, no honor. "I'll miss you," he said again and fumbled at his collar. "One way and another I owe you a great deal. I shan't forget that. I shan't forget you. I'll remember that I came here--to prison, I thought--and found some good friends. One very good friend who--" "Don't!" The little hand lying on the desk clenched tightly. "Don't talk about it. I--" She got slowly down from the stool. "I must be going now." But her eyes did not leave his. They went suddenly dark. And in them he read the same hurt that was in his own heart. He saw with a fierce blinding joy--then with horror--and then with joy again. "Esther! You, too! Oh, I never wanted that. I hoped you-- Oh, Esther!" She gave him no answer but stood looking at him piteously. No one, seeing them, could have failed to understand. The man who had come to the door saw and understood. It was Jonathan. They saw him. No word passed then; there was nothing to say. She moved slowly out of the room by another door, the men, both as if in a daze, following her with their eyes. When her footsteps had died away, they looked at each other helplessly. "David!" Jonathan's voice broke like a boy's. "David! What have you done?" After a little that cry reached David's understanding. "I never knew--" He turned away from the stricken accusing face. He heard Jonathan start away at last, then turn and come toward him. A letter was laid on the desk. "I was bringing this to you," said Jonathan's choking voice. And again, "David! David!" That time Jonathan did not return. Mechanically David took up and opened the letter. He had to read it twice before he grasped its import. "The committee of St. Mark's has selected your plans. . . . We shall want you to supervise the work . . . usual terms . . . congratulations." The letter fluttered from his hands to the floor, St. Mark's from his mind.