't stand this!" he exclaimed, and a little later--"By God, I
can't! I can't!"

He dismissed his car at the Battery, telling his chauffeur to take it to
the garage, and walking gloomily through all the tall dark streets of
lower New York. Here was Broadway where he had often been with Colfax
and Winfield. Here was this great world of finance around Wall Street in
which he had vaguely hoped to shine. Now these buildings were high and
silent--receding from him in a way. Overhead were the clear bright
stars, cool and refreshing, but without meaning to him now. How was he
to settle it? How adjust it? A year! She would never come back--never!
It was all gone. A bright cloud faded. A mirage dissolved into its
native nothingness. Position, distinction, love, home--where were they?
Yet a little while and all these things would be as though they had
never been. Hell! Damn! Curse the brooding fates that could thus plot to
destroy him!

Back in her room in Daleview Suzanne had locked herself in. She was not
without a growing sense of the tragedy of it. She stared at the floor,
recalled his face.

"Oh, oh," she said, and for the first time in her life felt as though
she could cry from a great heartache--but she could not.

And in Riverside Drive was another woman brooding, lonely, despondently,
desperately, over the nature of the tragedy that was upon her. How were
things to be adjusted? How was she to be saved? Oh! oh! her life, her
child! If Eugene could be made to understand! If he could only be made
to see!

CHAPTER XXIII

During the weeks which followed Colfax's talk with him, and Suzanne's
decision, which amounted practically to a dismissal, Eugene tried to
wind up his affairs at the United Magazines Corporation, as well as
straighten out his relationship with Angela. It was no easy task. Colfax
helped him considerably by suggesting that he should say he was going
abroad for the company, for the time being, and should make it appear
imperative that he go at once. Eugene called in his department heads,
and told them what Colfax suggested, but added that his own interests
elsewhere, of which they knew, or suspected, were now so involved that
he might possibly not return, or only for a little while at best. He put
forward an air of great sufficiency and self-satisfaction, considering
the difficulties he was encountering, and the thing passed off as a
great wonder, but with no suspicion of any immediate misfortune