I can never do
this. Why do you make it so terribly hard for me! So pitilessly hard!
You always have been so strong, so sure, such a staff of courage."

"I say again, and again, and again, you do not care."

It was then that I took my last vestige of strength and courage together
and going over to him, put my two hands on his great shoulders, looking
up into his drawn face as I spoke.

"Ernst, look at me! You never can know how much I care. I care so
much that I could not bear to have the shadow of wrong fall upon our
happiness. There can be no lasting happiness upon a foundation of
shameful deceit. I should hate myself, and you would grow to hate me. It
always is so. Dear one, I care so much that I have the strength to do
as I would do if I had to face my mother, and Norah tonight. I don't ask
you to understand. Men are not made to understand these things; not even
a man such as you, who are so beautifully understanding. I only ask that
you believe in me--and think of me sometimes--I shall feel it, and be
helped. Will you take me home now, Dr. von Gerhard?"

The ride home was made in silence. The wind was colder, sharper. I was
chilled, miserable, sick. Von Gerhard's face was quite expressionless
as he guided the little car over the smooth road. When we had stopped
before my door, still without a word, I thought that he was going to
leave me with that barrier of silence unbroken. But as I stepped stiffly
to the curbing his hands closed about mine with the old steady grip. I
looked up quickly, to find a smile in the corners of the tired eyes.

"You--you will let me see you--sometimes?"

But wisdom came to my aid. "Not now. It is better that we go our
separate ways for a few weeks, until our work has served to adjust the
balance that has been disturbed. At the end of that time I shall write
you, and from that time until you sail in June we shall be just good
comrades again. And once in Vienna--who knows?--you may meet the plump
blond Fraulein, of excellent family--"

"And no particular imagination--"

And then we both laughed, a bit hysterically, because laughter is, after
all, akin to tears. And the little green car shot off with a whir as I
turned to enter my new world of loneliness.

CHAPTER XIV. BENNIE AND THE CHARMING OLD MAID

There followed a blessed week of work--a "human warious" week,
with something piquant lurking at every turn. A week so busy, so
kaleidoscopic in its quick succession of even