"Nonsense!" he laughed lightly, with no sign of the sudden panic of fear within him lest the look on his son's face meant the downfall of all his plans. "I made it large purposely. Remember, I'm borrowing her husband for a season; and she needs some recompense! Besides, it'll mean a playday for herself. You'll not be so unjust to Helen as to refuse her the means to enjoy that!--not that she'll spend it all for that, of course. But it will be a comfortable feeling to know that she has it." "Y-yes, of course," hesitated Burke, still frowning. "Then we'll call that settled." "I know; but-- Of course if you put it _that_ way, why, I--" "Well, I do put it just that way," nodded the father lightly. "Now, let's go in. I've got some maps and time-tables I want you to see. I'm planning a different route from the one we took with the doctor--a better one, I think. But let's see what you say. Come!" And he led the way to the library. Burke's head came up alertly. His shoulders lost their droop and his brow its frown. A new light flamed into his eyes and a new springiness leaped into his step. Always, from the time his two-year-old lips had begged to "see the wheels go 'round," had Burke's chief passion and delight been traveling. As he bent now over the maps and time-tables that his father spread before him, voice and hands fairly trembled with eagerness. Then suddenly a chance word sent him to his feet again, the old look of despair on his face. "Dad, I can't," he choked. "I can't be a quitter. You don't want me to be!" [Illustration: JOHN DENBY WENT STRAIGHT TO HIS SON AND LAID BOTH HANDS ON HIS SHOULDERS] With a sharp word John Denby, too, leaped to his feet. Something of the dogged persistence that had won for him wealth and power glowed in his eyes as he went straight to his son and laid both hands on his shoulders. "Burke, I had not meant to say this," he began quietly; "but perhaps it's just as well that I do. Possibly you think I've been blind all these past months; but I haven't. I've seen--a good deal. Now I want you and Helen to be happy. I don't want to see your life--or hers--wrecked. I believe there's a chance yet for you two people to travel together with some measure of peace and comfort, and I'm trying to give you that chance. There's just one thing to do, I believe, and that is--to be away from each other for a while. You both need it. For weeks I've been planning and scheming how it could be done. How do you suppose I happened to have this Alaska trip all cut and dried even down to the train and boat schedules, if I hadn't done some thinking? To-night came my chance. So I spoke." "But--to be a quitter!" "You're not quitting. You're--stopping to get your breath." "There's--my work." "You've made good, and more than good there, son. I've been proud of you--every inch of the way. You're no quitter there."