y happy," he returned.

She had stopped when they reached a corner, and he realised, with a
pang, that the chance meeting was at an end. As she stood there in the
pale sunshine, his eyes hung upon her face with an intensity which
seemed to hold in it something of the tragedy of a last parting. At the
moment he told himself that so far as it lay in his power he would
henceforth separate his life from hers; and as he made the resolution he
knew that he would carry her memory like a white flame in his heart
forever.

An instant afterward he went from her with a smile; and as she turned to
look after him, moved by a sudden impulse, she felt a vague stir of pity
for the gaunt figure passing so rapidly along the crowded street. While
she watched him she remembered that there were worn places on the coat
he wore, and with one of the curious eccentricities of sentiment, this
trivial detail served to surround him with a peculiar pathos.

CHAPTER VII

IN WHICH FAILURE IS CROWNED BY FAILURE

At one o'clock, when Adams left his office to go home to luncheon--a
custom which he had not allowed himself to neglect since Connie's
illness--he found Mr. Wilberforce just about to enter the building from
the front on Union Square.

"Ah, I've caught you as I meant to," exclaimed the older man, with the
cordial enthusiasm which Adams had always found so delightful. "It's
been so long a time since I had a talk with you that I hope you'll come
out somewhere to lunch?"

"I only wish I could manage it," replied Adams, "but I must look in for
a minute on Mrs. Adams--she's been ill, you know."

He saw the surprise reflected in his companion's face as he had seen it
a little earlier in Laura's; and at the same instant he felt a sensation
of annoyance because of his inability to act upon his impulse of
hospitality. He would have liked to take Mr. Wilberforce home with him;
but remembering the probable quality of the luncheon which awaited him,
he repressed the inclination.

"Is that so? I'm sorry to hear it," remarked the other in the
conventional tone in which Adams' friends always spoke of Connie. "Well,
I'll walk a block or two with you in your direction," he added as they
turned toward Broadway. "Laura told me, by the way, that she was so
fortunate as to have a glimpse of you this morning."

Adams nodded and then looked quickly away from the other's searching
eyes. "Yes, we met rather early in the street," he responded; "she s