t he had
worked.

Frances had used another phrase: "She'd be almost glad you had no
money."

There was only one woman in the world he knew who would care for a man
like that--if she cared at all. That brought him to his feet again. He
glared about as if searching for her in the dark. Why wasn't she here
now, so that he might ask her if she did care? She had no business to
go off and leave him like this! He did not know where she was.

Don struck a match and looked at his watch. It was eight-thirty.
Somehow, he must find her. He had her old address, and it was possible
that she had left word where she had gone. At any rate, this was the
only clue he had.

He made his way back to the Avenue, and, at a pace that at times
almost broke into a run, went toward the club and the first taxi he
saw. In twenty minutes he was standing on the steps where he had last
seen her. She had wished him to say "good-bye"; but he remembered that
he had refused to say "good-bye."

The landlady knew Miss Winthrop's address, but she was not inclined to
give it to him. At first she did not like the expression in his eyes.
He was too eager.

"Seems to me," she argued, "she'd have told parties where she was
going if she wanted them to know."

"This is very important," he insisted.

"Maybe it's a lot more important to you than it is to her," she
replied.

"But--"

"You can leave your name and address, and I'll write to her," she
offered.

"Look here," Don said desperately. "Do you want to know what my
business is with her?"

"It's none of my business, but--"

"I want to ask her to marry me," he broke in. "That's a respectable
business, isn't it?"

He reached in his pocket and drew out a bill. He slipped it into her
hand.

"Want to marry her?" exclaimed the woman. "Well, now, I wouldn't stand
in the way of that. Will you step in while I get the address?"

"I'll wait here. Only hurry. There may be a late train."

She was back in a few seconds, holding a slip of paper in her hand.

"It's to Brenton, Maine, she's gone."

Don grabbed the paper.

"Thanks."

He was halfway down the steps when she called after him:--

"Good luck to ye, sir."

"Thanks again," he called back.

Then he gave his order to the driver:--

"To the Grand Central."

Don found that he could take the midnight train to Boston and connect
there with a ten-o'clock train next morning. This would get him into
Portland in time for a connection that woul