"Is there--some one else?" he asked in a strained voice. And to Helena the question came as though it had been an inspiration given him--for after that he would ask no more, seek no more to understand, for he was too big and strong and fine for that; and even if it was hopeless now this love that she had known for Madison, even if it could never be again, still that love was hers, and she could answer truthfully. "Yes," she said beneath her breath. For a moment Thornton neither moved nor spoke. Then he held out his hand. "Miss Vail," he said simply, "will you tell this 'some one else' that another man beside himself is the better for having known you. Good-night. And may God bring you happiness through all your life." But she did not speak--they were standing by the rustic bench and she sank down upon it, and, with her head hidden in one arm outflung across the back of the seat, was sobbing softly. And he stood and watched her for a little space, his face grave and white; then taking the hand that lay listlessly in her lap, he raised it to his lips--and turned away. And so he left her--and so, because of this, he knocked upon another door that night, and all unwittingly gave to that "some one else" himself the message that he had asked Helena to deliver. Madison, pacing his room like a caged beast, his teeth working upon the cigar that he had never thought to light, paid no attention to the summons until it had been repeated twice; then, with a glance around the room, his eyes lingering for a critical instant upon the trunks, closed now, the trays restored to their hiding places, he stepped to the door, unlocked it, and flung it open. And at sight of Thornton, mechanically, as second nature to him, outwardly, like a mask, there came a smile upon his working lips, a suave, unconcerned composure to his face; while inwardly, in his dazed, fogged brain where chaos raged, surged an impulse to fling himself upon the other, wreck a mad vengeance upon the man--and then swift upon the heels of this an impulse to refrain, for if Helena was straight why should he harm Thornton--and then the shuttle again--why should he not--hadn't Helena said that she had learned what love was last night--and last night she had been with Thornton. How his brain whirled! What had brought Thornton here, anyhow? If he stayed very long perhaps he would batter Thornton to jelly after all! Quick, almost instantaneous in their sequence came this wild jumble singing dizzily its crazy refrain through his mind--and then to his amazement he heard some one speaking pleasantly--and to his amazement it was himself. "Come in, Thornton. Come in--and take a chair." "Thanks," Thornton answered; and, entering the room, closed the door behind him. "No; I won't sit down--I shall only remain a moment."