more vital occurring to his troubled mind.

"Oh yes, Alan Delbridge gave a big reception and dance in his rooms.
Supper was served at the club at one o'clock. Champagne and all the
rest. I was the blindest chaperon you ever saw. Good-by--if I don't
get down to breakfast it will be because I'm sound asleep. I knew you
would cut your outing short."

"You say you did?" he cried, his heart sinking. "What made you think
so?"

"The Mitchells are back." She laughed significantly, and was gone.

He had his breakfast alone in the pretty dining-room below, and at
once started to town. His first thought was that he would go to the
bank, but he decided otherwise. He shrank from the formality of
greeting the employees in his present frame of mind. No, he would
simply see Marie at once and face the inevitable. The earliness of the
hour--it was only nine o'clock--would make no difference with her. In
fact, by seeking her at once he might prevent her from looking for
him. It would be dangerous, he was well aware of that, but the danger
would not be any the greater under the roof of her cottage than at the
bank, or even in the streets. He decided not to call a cab. The
distance was less than a mile, and the walk would perhaps calm him and
might furnish some inspiration as to his dealings with her.

Marie Winship lived in a quiet part of the city, near Decatur Street,
and after a brisk walk he found himself at her door ringing the bell.
He was kept waiting several minutes, and this was awkward, for he was
afraid that some one in passing might recognize him and remark upon