He hung back, biding his time, until the party had disappeared inside the ferry building. Then he hastened toward one of the exits, intent on securing a cab. He had made up his mind not to accost them; he would not present himself unexpectedly at a time and place when embarrassment to them might be the result. From somewhere at the edge of the crowd a thin, sardonic voice called out to him: "So long, David. You know how it feels yourself now, don't you?" He knew who the speaker was without looking. Mrs. Braddock was standing at the counter of the telegraph office near one of the street doors. He did not see her until he was almost upon her. She was alone and engaged in writing out a telegram. His plans were altered in an instant. A moment later, he was at her side, his face flushed and eager. For many seconds she stared wonderingly into his smiling eyes. Before uttering a word she glanced at the message she had finished and was about to hand it to the clerk; then her gaze returned to his face. "David Jenison," she said, and there was something like awe in her voice, "is it really you? How strange--how very strange!" "I'm not a ghost," he cried. "You look at me as if I had crept out of my grave." She looked again at the telegram. "Why, David," she began falteringly. Then her face cleared. A glad smile broke over it, and both her hands were extended. "It really _is_ you? I am not seeing visions? Yes, you are flesh and blood! You dear, dear David! I am _so_ glad to see you. How does it happen that you are here? Where do you come from and--" She went on with the eagerness of a child, asking more questions than he could remember, much less answer. "And how wonderfully you have grown up!" "I have seen Christine," he said eagerly. "She is perfection--she is marvelous." "Seen her? Where? But we cannot talk here. We must have hours and hours all by ourselves. Come to my father's house to-night. We are living with him, you know. There is so much that we have to tell each other--all that has happened in the five long years." "I am here solely to remind you that the five years are ended, Mrs. Braddock. Mahomet has come to the mountain, you see." Her face clouded. She glanced quickly through the window. His gaze followed hers. Christine and young Stanfield were driving away together in a hansom. He read her thoughts. "I'll take my chances," he remarked confidently. "I know that she has not forgotten, David," she said after a moment of deliberation, "but--well, I will be frank with you. She has suddenly shot past my comprehension. It is the privilege of a girl to change her mind, you know, when she changes the length of her frocks." "You haven't changed, have you?" he asked bluntly. She stared. "I?" "I mean, you are still my champion?" "Of course," she replied readily.