“I've taken the best part out of a week. I couldn't stay longer than that. I'll see you after breakfast and go over things. No news?” “No; everything's lovely. But say, Mr. Halloran, how about it?” Halloran shook his head and would have hurried on. “Pshaw, now; it wasn't no, was it?” “Not exactly.” “Well, say--then maybe it's all right.” “It's nothing, Captain--worse than nothing.” “You don't mean--you ain't telling me you've come back without either no or yes?” Halloran made no answer. He simply wanted to get away. “Mr. Halloran, I didn't think it of you; honest, I didn't. Say, now,” he reached down and caught hold of the bag, not heeding Halloran's protest, “let's step back this way. There hasn't a soul seen you--not a soul.” His eyes swept the street. “Just step along a little quicker. The early train 'll be pulling out before long, and you can pick up some breakfast at Reed City. I'd take you home with me--Jennie'd never peep--but I'm afraid some of the boys might be around when you come out, and anyhow you'd have to wait till the later train, and when you come to things like this time's worth saving. I guess prob'ly there's some other fellow hanging around down there these days and you've gone and given him a cool two days' start of you--you've just handed it to him. Now you get right back by the fastest train you can make. There's a good many things you know a heap more about than I do, but I guess maybe women ain't one of 'em.” They reached the station, Halloran walking moodily without a word. At the edge of the platform he turned. “Captain, do you really think I ought to do it?” “My boy, you've got to do it. You ain't going to lie down here, are you? And that's what it means if you don't. There's your train waiting there. You get right aboard before anybody shows up to ask questions. Good-by; good luck to you.” Halloran got aboard, moody still; pulled up his collar, pulled down his hat, slid down low in the seat, and fixed his eyes on a worn spot in the back of the seat ahead. And when the train pulled into Reed City he was still gazing at the worn spot. The invigorating autumn air still held in Woodland Valley. Halloran, finding that the sleepy white horses and their driver were likely to be delayed in the village, threw his bag under a seat and set out on foot, following the road up through the notch by the bronze patches of cornstalks. He caught up a handful of young winter-green and munched it as he tramped. There was a lift in the air, and he threw open his coat and walked with a swing. At the house he asked for Miss Davies and was told that she was in her room, so he wrote a line in the library and gave it to a maid to take to her. She came in a moment. “Get your things, Margaret,” he said; “let's go outside.” “But--when did you come?”