nd sodden. He
followed her there, but with his shoulders erect now.

"I 'm going now," he said. "I think I shall take the night train for
Paris. I want to leave the machine--the machine we came down here
in--for you."

"Don't--please don't."

"It's for you and Peter. The thing for you both to do is to get out in
it every day."

"I--I don't want to."

"You mean--"

He placed his hand upon her arm, and she ventured one more look into
his eyes. He was frowning. She must not allow that. She must send
him away in good spirits. That was the least she could do. So she
forced a smile.

"All right," she promised; "if it will make you more comfortable."

"It would worry me a lot if I thought you were n't going to be happy."

"I'll go out every fair day."

"That's fine."

He took a card from his pocket and scribbled his banker's address upon
it.

"If anything should come up where--where I can be of any use, you can
always reach me through this address."

She took the card. Even to the end he was good--good and four-square.
He was so good that her throat ached. She could not endure this very
much longer. He extended his hand.

"S'long and good luck," he said.

"I--I hope your golf will be better than you think."

Then he said a peculiar thing. He seldom swore, and seldom lost his
head as completely as he did that second. But, looking her full in the
eyes, he ejaculated below his breath:--

"Damn golf!"

The observation was utterly irrelevant. Turning, he clicked his heels
together like a soldier and went out. The door closed behind him. For
a second her face was illumined as with a great joy. In a sort of
ecstasy, she repeated his words.

"He said," she whispered--"he said, 'Damn golf.'" Then she threw
herself into a wicker chair and began to sob.

"Oh!" she choked. "If--if--"

CHAPTER XXII

A CONFESSION

Monte left Nice on the twentieth of July, to join--as Peter
supposed--Madame Covington in Paris. Monte himself had been extremely
ambiguous about his destination, being sure of only one fact: that he
should not return inside of a year, if he did then. Peter had asked
for his address, and Monte had given him the same address that he gave
Marjory.

"I want to keep in touch with you," Peter said.

Peter missed the man. On the ride with Marjory that he enjoyed the
next day after Monte's departure, he talked a great deal of him.

"I 'd like to have seen into his eyes,"