You needn't ask me where I got my information, because I won't tell you. I've no business to tell you this much. What you want to remember is that Farnsworth knows every time you get in from lunch twenty minutes late, as you did to-day; and he knows when you get in late in the morning, as you have eleven times now; and he knows when you take an hour and a half for a half-hour errand, as you have seven times; and he knows when you're in here half-dead, as you've been all the time; and he knows what you don't know about what you ought to know. And no one has to tell him, either. He gets it by instinct. So you needn't say no one warned you, and please don't expect me to tell you anything more, because I don't know anything more. I am, Respectfully yours, SARAH K. WINTHROP. She addressed this to the Harvard Club, and posted it that night on her way home. It freed her of a certain responsibility, and so helped her to enjoy a very good dinner. CHAPTER XIV IN REPLY Don did not receive Miss Winthrop's letter until the following evening. He had dropped into the club to join Wadsworth in a bracer,--a habit he had drifted into this last month,--and opened the envelope with indifferent interest, expecting a tailor's announcement. He caught his breath at the first line, and then read the letter through some five times. Wadsworth, who was waiting politely, grew impatient. "If you're trying to learn that by heart--" he began. Don thrust the letter into his pocket. "I beg your pardon," he apologized. "It--it was rather important." They sat down in the lounge. "What's yours?" inquired Wadsworth, as in response to a bell a page came up. "A little French vichy," answered Don. "Oh, have a real drink," Wadsworth urged. "I think I'd better not to-night," answered Don. Wadsworth ordered a cock-tail for himself. "How's the market to-day?" he inquired. He always inquired how the market was of his business friends--as one inquires as to the health of an elderly person. "I don't know," answered Don. "You don't mean to say you've cut out business?" exclaimed Wadsworth. "I guess I have," Don answered vaguely. "Think of retiring?" "To tell the truth, I hadn't thought of it until very lately; but now--" Don restrained a desire to read his letter through once more. "Take my advice and do it," nodded Wadsworth. "Nothing in it but a beastly grind. It's pulling on you." As a matter of fact, Don had lost some five pounds in the last month, and it showed in his face. But it was not business which had done that, and he knew it. Also Miss Winthrop knew it.