"You're going--when?" "In a day or two now," he replied. "You see--it's necessary for me to desert you." "Monte!" "The law demands the matter of six months' absence--perhaps a little longer. I 'll have this looked up and will notify you. Desertion is an ugly word; but, after all, it sounds better than cruel and abusive treatment." "It's I who deserted," she said. He waved the argument aside. "Anyway, it's only a technicality. The point is that I must show the world that--that we did not mean what we said. So I 'll go on to England." "And play golf," she added for him. He nodded. "I 'll probably put up a punk game. Never was much good at golf. But it will help get me back into the rut. Then I 'll sail about the first of August for New York and put a few weeks into camp." "Then you'll go on to Cambridge." "And hang around until after the Yale game." "Then--" "How many months have I been gone already?" "Four." "Oh, yes; then I'll go back to New York." "What will you do there, Monte?" "I--I don't know. Maybe I'll call on Chic some day." "If they should ever learn!" cried Marjory. "Eh?" Monte passed his hand over his forehead. "There is n't any danger of that, is there?" "I don't think I'll ever dare meet _her_ again." Monte squared his shoulders. "See here, little woman; you must n't feel this way. It won't do at all. That's why I thought if you could only separate these last few weeks from everything else--just put them one side and go from there--it would be so much better. You see, we've got to go on and--holy smoke! this has got to be as if it never happened. You have your life ahead of you and I have mine. We can't let this spoil all the years ahead. You--why, you--" She looked up. It was a wonder he did not take her in his arms in that moment. He held himself as he had once held himself when eleven men were trying to push him and his fellows over the last three yards separating them from a goal. "It's necessary to go on, is n't it?" he repeated helplessly. "Yes, yes," she answered quickly. "You must go back to your schedule just as soon as ever you can. As soon as we're over the ugly part--" "The divorce?" "As soon as we're over that, everything will be all right again," she nodded. "Surely," he agreed. "But we must n't remember anything. That's quite impossible. The thing to do is to forget." She appeared so earnest that he hastened to reassure her. "Then we'll forget." He said it so cheerfully, she was ready to believe him. "That ought to be easy for you," he added. "For me?" "I 'm going to leave you with Peter." She caught her breath. She did not dare answer. "I've seen a good deal of him lately," he continued. "We've come to know each other rather intimately, as sometimes men do in a short while when they have interests in common." "You and Peter have interests in common!" she exclaimed. He appeared uneasy. "We're both Harvard, you know." "I see."