“I don’t feel resentful at all,” interrupted Vickers. “But I don’t feel as if I wanted to go out of my way to see her again.” “And in the second,” Overton went on, “the only way you can possibly catch your train now is to let her drive you down. She has a trap outside, and she seemed to be----” He paused, for the door had slammed behind Vickers, and when he followed, the two were already in the trap. Overton smiled. “That’s right,” he said, “make haste; but you might at least say good-by to a man you may never see again. Good-by, my dear fellow; good luck.” Vickers, a little ashamed, shook hands with the older man in silence, and Overton went on: “Whatever happens, Vickers, do not resist arrest. I have ordered a trap and I’ll follow you as soon as it comes. Not that I anticipate any trouble.” They drove away, and Overton as he entered the house murmured to himself, “Not that they listened to a word I said.” Yet if they had not listened, it did not seem to be from any desire to talk themselves. They drove out of the gates in silence, and had gone some distance before Nellie asked, “Where shall you go to-night, Mr. Vickers?” “Thank you for your interest,” returned Vickers bitterly, “but it seems that my plans have been quite sufficiently spread about Hilltop. Perhaps it would be as well for me not to answer your question. I am going away.” Not unnaturally this speech angered Nellie. “You do not seem to understand,” she said, “that I came to warn you that you must go.” “I was going anyhow,” he retorted, “but of course I am very much obliged to you for any trouble you may have taken.” “I thought it my duty,” she began, but he interrupted her with a laugh. “Your duty, of course. You never do anything from any other motive. That is exactly why I do not tell you my plans. You might feel it your duty to repeat them to Emmons. I think I remember your saying that you always tell him everything.” “You are making it,” said Nellie, in a voice as cool as his own, “rather difficult for me to say what I think is due to you--and that is that I owe you an apology for having insisted yesterday----” “You owe me so many apologies,” returned Vickers, “that you will hardly have time to make them between here and the station, so perhaps it is hardly worth while to begin.” “You have a right to take this tone with me,” said Nellie, acutely aware how often she had taken it with him. “But you shall not keep me from saying, Mr. Vickers, that I am very conscious of how ill I have treated you, and that your patience has given me a respect for you--” She stopped, for Vickers laughed contemptuously; but as he said nothing in answer, she presently went on again: “I do not know what it is that strikes you as ludicrous in what I am saying. I was going to add that I should like to hear, now and then, how you are getting on, if it is not too much to ask.” He turned on her. “You mean you want me to _write_ to you?” She nodded.