“Say,” said David, “I am sorry you’re leaving us; but, gee!” he added, his face twisting with joy, “ain’t the firm glad to have you go!” It had long been Wayne’s habit to pay strict attention to the impressions of David. “Why do you think they are glad?” he asked. “Oh, they’re glad all right,” said David. “I heard the old man say yesterday, ‘And by next Saturday he will be at sea.’ It was as if he was going to get a Christmas present.” And David went on about other business. Once put on the right track, it was not difficult to get the idea. He went to the firm’s printer, but found they had had no orders for printing his report. The next morning, instead of spending his time with his own last arrangements, he began hunting up other printing offices, and finally found what he was looking for. His report was already in print, with one paragraph left out--that one which related to the shortage of cars. His name was signed to it, with a little preamble by the firm, urging the investment on the favorable notice of their customers, and spoke in high terms of the accuracy of his estimates. To say that Pete did not once contemplate continuing his arrangements as if nothing had happened would not be true. All he had to do was to go. The thing was dishonest, clearly enough, but it was not his action. His original report would always be proof of his own integrity, and on his return he could sever his connection with the firm on some other pretext. On the other hand, to break his connection with Honaton & Benson, to force the suppression of the report unless given in full, to give up his trip, to confess that immediate marriage was impossible, that he himself was out of a job, that the whole basis of his good fortune was a fraud that he had been too stupid to discover--all this seemed to him more than man could be asked to do. But that was what he decided must be done. From the printer’s he telephoned to the Farrons, but found that Miss Severance was out. He knew she must have already started for their appointment in the City Hall Park. He had made up his mind, and yet when he saw her, so confident of the next step, waiting for him, he very nearly yielded to a sudden temptation to make her his wife, to be sure of that, whatever else might have to be altered. He had known she wouldn’t reproach him, but he was deeply grateful to her for being so unaware that there was any grounds for reproach. She understood the courage his renunciation had required. That seemed to be what she cared for most. At length he said to her: “Now I must go and get this off my chest with the firm. Go home, and I’ll come as soon as ever I can.” But here she shook her head. “I couldn’t go home,” she answered. “It might all come out before you arrived, and I could not listen to things that”--she avoided naming her mother--“that will be said about you, Pete. Isn’t there somewhere I can wait while you have your interview?”