Kate rose abruptly, walked back to her seat and began to fumble about the baggage. The Mayor nodded his head emphatically. "There's nothin' like it!" The cry, "All aboard," sounded through the car, and they rose. The Mayor said good-bye, and after him Tom. Then David took Rogers's thin hand. The two men silently gazed at one another for a long moment; each realised he might never again look into the other's face. "Good-bye, old man," breathed David, gripping his hand. "I hope it's going to be as you hope. God knows you deserve it!" Rogers's large eyes clung to him. "I've never had a friend like you!" he said slowly. "Good-bye--and if it's to be the long good-bye, then ... well, good-bye!" He broke off, then added: "You're going to try to help change some things we both know are wrong. Never forget one thing: the time to reform a criminal is before he becomes one. Save the kids.--God bless you!" The car began slowly to move. They gripped hands again, and David hurried back to Kate, whom the Mayor had just left and who was kissing Tom good-bye. David took her hand, and on gazing into her dark eyes and restrained face, it rushed upon him anew how much joy she had brought him and how much misery he had given her; and suddenly he was without a single word to say farewell. "Good-bye," she said with a forced calmness. "Forgive me!" he burst out in a whisper. "Your heart will tell you what I'd like to tell you. Forgive me!" Her head sank forward in affirmation. "But you've done nothing." There was no time to reply to that. "God bless you, Kate!--Good-bye!" he cried in a low voice. He ran out of the rapidly moving car and swung himself to the platform--unconscious that Kate's eyes had followed him to the last. He joined the Mayor, and together with Tom they walked out of the station and into the street, talking of the friends they had just left. But the Mayor, who had met the party at the station, and consequently had not had a confidential word with David, was bubbling with his own affairs, and he quickly left Kate and Rogers to travel their way alone. "Friend," he said with joyful solemnity, slipping his arm through David's, "I'm the biggest fool that ever wore pants!" "Why?" "For not lettin' Carrie marry me before." "Then you're happy?" "Happy?" A great laugh rose from beneath the Mayor's vest, and he gave David a hearty slap upon the back. "Yes, sir! Happy!--that's me! "Yes, sir," he went on, after they had boarded a car, "I've got only one thing agin Carrie, and that is that she didn't rope me in before. Say, she's all right--she's _It_. No siree, friend, there ain't nothin' like gettin' married!" The Mayor continued his praise of his present state till David and Tom bade him good night and left the car. As they walked through the cross street a sense of loneliness began to settle upon David; so that when Tom slipped a hand through his arm he drew the hand close against his side. "You're not going to leave me, are you?"