g to some friends near
Philadelphia for ten days"--and he remembered confusedly that a long
time ago--probably yesterday morning--he had heard her speak of her
projected visit.

"I had no idea," she continued, "that you were coming up to town
yesterday, or I should have tried to see you before you left. I wanted
to ask you to send me a line if Bessy needs me--I'll come back at once
if she does." Amherst continued to listen blankly, as if making a
painful effort to regain some consciousness of what was being said to
him, and she went on: "She seemed so nervous and poorly yesterday
evening that I was sorry I had decided to go----"

Her intent gaze reminded him that the emotions of the last twenty-four
hours must still be visible in his face; and the thought of what she
might detect helped to restore his self-possession. "You must not think
of giving up your visit," he began hurriedly--he had meant to add "on
account of Bessy," but he found himself unable to utter his wife's name.

Justine was still looking at him. "Oh, I'm sure everything will be all
right," she rejoined. "You go back this afternoon, I suppose? I've left
you a little note, with my address, and I want you to promise----"

She paused, for Amherst had made a motion as though to interrupt her.
The old confused sense that there must always be truth between them was
struggling in him with the strong restraints of habit and character; and
suddenly, before he was conscious of having decided to speak, he heard
himself say: "I ought to tell you that I am not going back."

"Not going back?" A flash of apprehension crossed Justine's face. "Not
till tomorrow, you mean?" she added, recovering herself.

Amherst hesitated, glancing vaguely up and down the street. At that
noonday hour it was nearly deserted, and Justine's driver dozed on his
perch above the hansom. They could speak almost as openly as if they had
been in one of the wood-paths at Lynbrook.

"Nor tomorrow," Amherst said in a low voice. There was another pause
before he added: "It may be some time before--" He broke off, and then
continued with an effort: "The fact is, I am thinking of going back to
my old work."

She caught him up with an exclamation of surprise and sympathy. "Your
old work? You mean at----"

She was checked by the quick contraction of pain in his face. "Not that!
I mean that I'm thinking of taking a new job--as manager of a Georgia
mill.... It's the only thing I know how to do, a