illusion; she was of spirit.

I wrote a note to the detective and left it upon my desk. After
that I packed a suitcase and hurried to the station. If I was
going I would do it at once, I could not trust myself too far.
This visit had been like a breath of air; for the moment I was
away from the isolation. The loneliness and the weariness! How I
dreaded it! I was only free from it for a few moments. On the
train it came back upon me and in a manner that was startling.

I had purchased my ticket. When the conductor came through he
passed me. He gathered tickets all about me; but he did not notice
me. At first I paid no attention; but when he had gone through the
car several times I held up my ticket. He did not stop. It was not
until I had touched him that he gave me a bit of attention.

"Where have you been sitting?" he asked.

I pointed to the seat. He frowned slightly.

"There?" he asked. "Did you say you were sitting in that seat?
Where did you get on?"

"At Townsend."

"Queer," he answered; he punched the ticket. "Queer. I passed that
seat several times. It was empty!"

Empty! It was almost a shock. Could it be that my isolation was
becoming physical as well as mental? What was this gulf that was