John thanked him and took it. “You’ll stay for dinner, Colonel?” asked Phillip. “Thank you, Phil; not to-day. I’m on my way over to Prentiss. Good-day, good-day, sir!” The Colonel trotted off, a gallant figure on his little black mare, and John opened his message. “Don’t dare to go back without stopping. Answer when. “GEORGE CORLISS.” “Nothing wrong, is there, John?” asked Phillip anxiously. “No, nothing wrong,” answered John, and he dropped the telegram into his pocket. “But I’m sorry to say, Phil, I’ll have to leave you in the morning.” CHAPTER XIX There was an early breakfast the next day, for John’s train left Melville at a little before eight. He had begged that Margaret would not come down to see him off and she had answered with a noncommittal smile. But when he entered the lamplighted dining-room she was already seated behind the shimmering urn, fresh and bright. A big fire roared and crackled in the chimney place, for the morning was cold and lowering, and the scene was so warm and cozy and homelike that John was sorely tempted to invent some desperate excuse and remain at Elaine. Why not? he asked himself. Was it incumbent upon him to hurry away merely because Margaret had not thrown herself into his arms at the first opportunity? Why not stay and go on as though yesterday’s episode had never been? She liked him; she had owned that; then why not remain and find what pleasure he could in that friendship she was ready to give him? But no, he could not go on as though nothing had happened; that was impossible. His presence would prove an embarrassment to Margaret every hour of the day. Besides, yesterday’s occurrence had proved that he could not trust himself. No; it was better to take his departure now before he did anything to impair Margaret’s regard. The reasons he had given for his sudden leaving were decidedly vague; it was necessary that he should be in Washington that evening; Corliss had telegraphed; it was all very important. Phillip damned Corliss heartily and didn’t hesitate to express dark suspicion. Even this morning found him still grumbling and lamenting. John could not flatter himself that he had deceived Margaret. She had expressed sincere regret upon the news of his intended departure, but she had asked no questions; she had even reprimanded Phillip when he had overstepped the bounds of politeness and had shown undue curiosity as to the contents of the telegram. Breakfast was a dismal affair. The outside world, seen through the tall windows, was gray and chilly. Phillip was out of temper; John depressed. Of the three, Margaret alone seemed possessed of her usual good spirits, and talked brightly and cheerfully until John mentally accused her of hard-heartedness and told himself bitterly that she was probably glad to be rid of him. He had said good-by to Mrs. Ryerson overnight and had been touched and pleased at the warmth of feeling she had shown.