"And you're going to write?"

"Write?" said Lewis. "No, I'm not going to write. I'm just going." For a
moment they were silent, then he said, "There's something about hearing
of people what were kind to you that makes you feel awfully lonely."

Lady Derl reached out and took his hand. Their hands lay together on his
knee. The drive came to an end, and they had said nothing more. As they
stood under the light of the outer hall Hélène turned to Lewis.

"When are you going?"

"To-morrow."

She held up her lips to him.

"Kiss me good-by, Boy."

He kissed her, and for a moment gripped her wrists.

"Hélène," he said, "you've been awfully good to me, too. I--I don't
forget."

"You don't forget," repeated Lady Derl. "That's why I kissed you. Don't
be hard on your little pal when you find her. Remember, you've gone a
long way alone."

As Lewis strode away rapidly toward the flat, the fragrance of Hélène
clung to him. It clung to him so long that he forgot Vi--forgot even to