he last few days. Life seemed
worth fighting for. This eastward flight from all things customary and
attached seemed as if it might have happiness in store. The storm showed
a rainbow at the end of which might be a pot of gold.

He was about to cross to a little red-and-white striped bar which was
fastened up beside a door when a voice greeted him familiarly. Instantly
his heart sank. "Why, hello, George, old man!" said the voice. "What are
you doing down here?"

Hurstwood was already confronted, and recognised his friend Kenny, the
stock-broker.

"Just attending to a little private matter," he answered, his mind
working like a key-board of a telephone station. This man evidently did
not know--he had not read the papers.

"Well, it seems strange to see you way up here," said Mr. Kenny
genially. "Stopping here?"

"Yes," said Hurstwood uneasily, thinking of his handwriting on the
register.

"Going to be in town long?"

"No, only a day or so."

"Is that so? Had your breakfast?"

"Yes," said Hurstwood, lying blandly. "I'm just going for a shave."

"Won't you come have a drink?"

"Not until afterwards," said the ex-manager. "I'll see you later. Are
you stopping here?"

"Yes," said Mr. Kenny, and then, turning the word again added: "How are
things out in Chicago?"

"About the same as usual," said Hurstwood, smiling genially.

"Wife with you?"

"No."

"Well, I must see more of you to-day. I'm just going in here for
breakfast. Come in when you're through."

"I will," said Hurstwood, moving away. The whole conversation was a
trial to him. It seemed to add complications with very word. This man
called up a thousand memories. He represented everything he had left.
Chicago, his wife, the elegant resort--all these were in his greeting
and inquiries. And here he was in this same hotel expecting to confer
with him, unquestionably waiting to have a good time with him. All
at once the Chicago papers would arrive. The local papers would have
accounts in them this very day. He forgot his triumph with Carrie in the
possibility of soon being known for what he was, in this man's eyes, a
safe-breaker. He could have groaned as he went into the barber shop. He
decided to escape and seek a more secluded hotel.

Accordingly, when he came out he was glad to see the lobby clear,
and hastened toward the stairs. He would get Carrie and go out by the
ladies' entrance. They would have breakfast in some more inconspicuous
place