and found that with the paper was a
letter. It was a letter from Deane Franklin.

She held it for a little while without opening it. It seemed so strange
to have it just as she was nearing Freeport.

The letter was dated the week before. It read:

"_Dear Ruth:_

"I'm leaving Freeport tonight. I'm going to Europe--to volunteer my
services as a doctor. Parker, whom I knew well at Hopkins, is right in
the midst of it. He can work me in. And the need for doctors is going to
go on for some time, I fancy; it won't end with the war.

"I'm happy in this decision, Ruth, and I know you'll be glad for me. It
was your letter that got me--made me see myself and hate myself, made me
know that I had to 'come out of it.' And then this idea came to me, and
I wish I could tell you how different everything seemed as soon as I saw
some reason for my existence. I'm ashamed of myself for not having seen
it this way before. As if this were any time for a man who's had my
training to sit around moping!

"Life is bigger than just ourselves. And isn't it curious how seeing
that brings us back to ourselves?

"I'll enclose Parker's address. You can reach me in care of him. I want
to hear from you.

"I can hardly wait to get there!

"DEANE."

* * * * *

She managed to read the letter through with eyes only a little dimmed.
But by the time she got to Parker's address she could not make it out.
"I knew it!" she kept saying to herself triumphantly.

Deane had been too big not to save himself. Absorbed in thoughts of him
she did not notice the country through which they were passing. She was
startled by a jolt of the train, by the conductor saying, "Freeport!"

For several minutes the train waited there. She sat motionless through
that time, Deane Franklin's letter clasped tight in her hand. Freeport!
It claimed her:--what had been, what was behind her; those dead who
lived in her, her own past that lived in her. Freeport.... It laid
strong hold on her. She was held there in what had been. And then a
great thing happened. The train jolted again--moved. It was
moving--moving on. _She_ was moving--moving on. And she knew then beyond
the power of anyone's disapproval to break down that it was right she
move on. She had a feeling of the whole flow of her life--and it was
still moving--moving on. And because she felt she was moving on that
sense of failure slipped from her. In secret she had been fighting that