He thought of Dayton, his only refuge, his goal. He hurried away, his mind bent on reaching Day-ton as quickly as possible. There he would be among friends, among people who knew that he was penniless and willing to work and expiate another's error, among friends who knew only the Tommy Leigh he must be to the end of his life. He walked on quickly, impelled by an irresistible desire to keep on walking until he arrived at Thompson's private office. Once more that overwhelming sense of solitude came upon him that he had felt when he alighted from the train in Dayton. Again he was alone in a strange and unfriendly place, alone in the world. There was nobody in New York to whom he could talk. In Dayton there was no reason why he should not tell everything to Mr. Thompson or to Bill Byrnes or even to Mr. Grosvenor. They would stand by him after they knew. They were men who would be loyal to him. Therefore, he must be loyal to them, to the men who would ask him to do his work, knowing he was not to blame. The best men in the world these, his good friends, who alone of all men would understand how a man might do for love what his father had done. And here in New York where his father lived nobody would understand! There were no friends. Out of bitterness came the recollection of Colonel Willetts's friendly words and generous help. But he could not be altogether grateful, for, if the secret were known, would Colonel Willetts be the same? He did not know. But he did know it would not make any difference to Rivington. Certainly not, God bless him! And yet he could not tell Rivington, whom he loved as a brother. He dared not. And he could not tell Marion. She would not blame him. She would feel very sorry for him. She would say, softly, “Poor Tommy!” He saw her lips move as she said this. He saw her eyes, moist and luminous. He was sure of her--absolutely! He drew in a deep breath. With the oxygen came courage. His fists clenched as the fighting mood returned. He would win out. Had he forgotten for a moment that he must fight until he had killed this thing that made his life a torture? He must not stop fighting a single second until he won out. And when that happened-- He saw Marion again. He heard her. She said, “Good boy, Tommy!” Some one else said, “Hey, there, why don't you look where yer goin', you big slob?” It was a newsboy into whom he had bumped. “Excuse me,” said Tommy, contritely. “Aw, fergit it!” retorted the boy. “I will!” said Tommy, thinking of something else. He would forget it! He walked into the nearest telephone pay station and called up Marion. He was just in time. She was just about to leave the house to do some shopping, she told him. “I was coming up to say good-by,” he said. “Can't we have tea somewhere? I'll get Rivington. I think he's at the club.” “When are you going?” “To-night at eight-thirty.” “Must you? I thought you'd stay--” “Must!” he said, miserably but proudly.