inking of her. He was thinking of Jacqueline.

He turned away abruptly, and looked over the portmanteau she had been
packing. On the top lay the peppermint-striped silk shirt his wife had
made for him. He saw it through a sudden blur of tears.

"There's one thing you've forgotten to pack," he muttered, and slipped
into the bag something which Kate removed as soon as his back was
turned. It was a pistol.

She was startled by this. "Perhaps I'd better go after Jacqueline
myself," she suggested.

"It is my right. I am her husband," was the stern answer.

In an incredibly short space of time, the telephone rang with Jemima's
return message.

No word from Jack. P. C.'s address in New York is No. 5, Ardmore
Apartments. James and I will meet her there. Don't worry.

"Thank Heaven for Jemima!" uttered her mother, turning from the
telephone. "You'll have time to catch the evening train in Frankfort for
New York, Philip. I'll meet you at the trolley station with money and
all that."

He had not thought of money, would have started upon his quest with
empty pockets. But it was characteristic of a new era that he accepted
her financial help now quite simply, without demur, without thought,
even, as he might have accepted it from his own mother.

The last thing he saw as the train pulled out of the station was Kate's
face gazing up at him whitely from the platform, and he leaned far out
of the window to promise, "I will not come back without her!"

But not then, nor until long afterwards, did he realize that for hours
he had been with his dear lady at a time of great distress to her,
without once realizing her presence; his thoughts yearning and his heart
aching for another woman, for his wife, Jacqueline.

It was the moment of Kate's justification, of her triumph, had she but
known it. But she did not know it.

She rode home slowly and yet more slowly through the twilight world,
into which came presently a pale winter moon, serene and beautiful and
mocking. There was no longer need of action, to stimulate her. She had
reached the end of her strength.

The sensitive horse beneath her moved with increasing care, sedately and
cautiously, as if he realized that he must be brains as well as feet for
two. He was an experienced animal, and had known what it was to carry
children on his back.

When he came to the front door of Storm, he paused of his own accord,
and nickered anxiously.

So the servants found th