“Go away,” he said harshly. “Go away. You know not what you say. Some day I shall make him suffer as I suffer to-day. God hears me. Some day.” He lifted his hands high above his head. Then with a despairing cry, “Oh, I have lost her, I have lost her,” he turned from Jane and rushed into the woods. Shaken, trembling and penetrated with pity for him, Jane made her way toward the office, near which she found Larry with the manager discussing an engineering problem which appeared to interest them both. “Where's Ernest?” inquired Larry. “He has just gone,” said Jane, struggling to speak quietly. “I think we must hurry, Larry. Come, please. Good-bye, Mr. Steinberg.” She hurried away toward the horses, leaving Larry to follow. “What is it, Jane?” said Larry when they were on their way. “Why didn't you tell me, Larry, that he was fond of Kathleen?” she cried indignantly. “I hurt him terribly, and, oh, it was awful to see a man like that.” “What do you say? Did he cut up rough?” said Larry. Jane made no reply, but her face told its own story of shock and suffering. “He need not have let out upon you, Jane, anyway,” said Larry. “Don't, Larry. You don't understand. He loves Kathleen. You don't know anything about it. How can you?” “Oh, he will get over it in time,” said Larry with a slight laugh. Jane flashed on him a look of indignation. “Oh, how can you, Larry? It was just terrible to see him. But you do not know,” she added with a touch of bitterness unusual with her. “One thing I do know,” said Larry. “I would not pour out my grief on some one else. I would try to keep it to myself.” But Jane refused to look at him or to speak again on the matter. Never in her sheltered life had there been anything suggesting tragedy. Never had she seen a strong man stricken to the heart as she knew this man to be stricken. The shadow of that tragedy stayed with her during all the remaining days of her visit. The sight of Kathleen's happy face never failed to recall the face of the man who loved her distorted with agony and that cry of despair, “I have lost her, I have lost her.” Not that her last days at the ranch were not happy days. She was far too healthy and wholesome, far too sane to allow herself to miss the gladness of those last few days with her friends where every moment offered its full measure of joy. Nora would have planned a grand picnic for the last day on which the two households, including Jack Romayne, who by this time was quite able to go about, were to pay a long-talked-of visit to a famous canyon in the mountains. The party would proceed to the canyon in the two cars, for Mr. Wakeham's car and Mr. Wakeham's person as driver had been constantly at the service of the Gwynnes and their guests during their stay at the farm. “But that is our very last day, Nora,” said Jane. “Well, that's just why,” replied Nora. “We shall wind up our festivities in one grand, glorious finale.”