When Robert finished reading this little note, tears were streaming down his face. He was frantic. He knew that the mysterious letter was written by Marie's own hand and must have been written on the train and for some unknown reason she was leaving him. He at once thought of his great faith in her, and his faith in God and the future as he read. He wondered what this could mean: "According to your faith, be I unto you--love will always have faith, understand and wait." Robert thought, "How can I understand, how can I wait, when I left her only a few hours ago supremely happy anticipating being married a few hours later in St. Louis, and going on to New York to spend our future lives together. What in the world can she mean by, 'time proves all things.'" Time had proved his faith and love for her. She had had faith in him and had encouraged him; had put up the $400.00 she had saved, not to make money for herself but to try to help him. She told him that she didn't want the money, but wanted him to use it in any way that would help him. Then he pondered the next line where she said: "You will get everything you want." He thought, "My God, there is only one thing that I do want, there is only one thing in this world that means anything to me and that is my Marie, and where will I find her." Reading the next line over and over, "I will come to you when I mean the most and your need for love is the greatest." He almost exclaimed aloud, "My God, my God, now is the time that I need her the most. I will never need her more. How can I go on? Life will be a blank. I will be a dismal failure without her." He wondered if there ever could be a time in the future when he would need her more, when she would mean more to him, than she meant at this moment. He could imagine no unfriendly circumstances, no break of any kind that would cause Marie to change in a few hours and decide to turn back from the step she had taken. He could not understand how she could have slipped to his berth in the wee small hours of the morning and placed this note in his inside coat pocket. It was her handwriting, and he knew that Marie had written it. But why! why! why! As the train rolled into the Union Station at St. Louis he stood in the car dazed, with her letter crumpled in his hand. With a heavy heart he made his way to the station and sat down to think what he could or should do. Finally, he decided to send a telegram and lay the circumstances of Marie's disappearance before Mr. Kennelworth and ask his advice before making any move.