She was forced to look. After all, he could afford to give her one out of so many, and it would be something to remember him by. "Yes," she answered, with a break in her voice. "That one is yours," he assured her. It was as if he added, "All the rest belong to Frances." She held out her hand to him. "Thank you for your star," she said. "And--and I wish you the best of luck." He took her hand, but he was confused by the note of finality in her voice. "I don't see any need of being so solemn about saying good-night," he returned. He continued to hold her hand firmly. "But it's good-bye and--God-speed, too," she reminded him. "How do you make that out?" "You're going on a long journey, and I--I'm going on a little journey." "You? Where are you going?" He didn't want her to go anywhere. He wanted her to stay right where she was. Come to think of it, he always wanted her to stay right where she was. He always thought of her as within reach. "My vacation begins to-morrow," she answered. "And you're going away--out of town?" She nodded. "You can't do that," he protested. "Why, I was depending upon you these next few days." It was difficult for her to tell at the moment whether the strain in her throat was joy or pain. That he needed her--that was joy; that he needed her only for the next few days--that was not joy. "You mustn't depend upon any one these next few days but yourself," she answered earnestly. "And after that--just yourself and her." "That's well enough if everything comes out all right." "Make it come out right. That's your privilege as a man. Oh, that's why it's so good to be a man!" "You ought to have been a man yourself," he told her. She caught her breath at that, and insisted upon withdrawing her hand. "I used to think I'd like to be," she answered. "And now?" She shook her head. He had swung the talk back to her again, when the talk should have been all of him and Frances. "It's in you to get everything in the world you want," she said. "I'm sure of that. All you have to do is to want it hard enough. And now there are so many things right within your grasp. You won't let go of them?" "No," he answered. "Your home, your wife, and your work--it's wonderful to make good in so many things all at once! So--good-bye." "You talk as if you were not coming back again!" "I'm coming back to Carter, Rand & Seagraves--if that's what you mean." "And you're coming back here--to your home?" "Yes; I'm coming back here." "Then we'll just say s'long." "No. We must say good-bye." She had not wished to say this in so many words. She had hoped he would take the new situation for granted. "When I come back you must look on me as--as Mr. Farnsworth does." "That's nonsense." "No; it's very, very good sense. It's the only thing possible. Can't you see?" "No." "Then Frances will help you see." "She won't want to make a cad of me; I know that." "I'm going in now." She opened the door behind her.