t been broken off. Murray felt uneasily
conscious, however, that she was thinking of the letter, and made an
excuse to leave her alone so that she might read it in peace. Depressed
and anxious, he strolled out on the lawn with the dogs. One of them made
a rush at the open bay window into the boudoir; and, snatching the
animal back by its collar, Murray caught a glimpse of Rosemary burning
something in the grate.

Soon after she had joined him out of doors, and had made an effort to be
gay. He had thought, however, that she was absent-minded, and he longed
to ask what the trouble was; but America as a subject of conversation
was taboo.

For the rest of the day they were mostly together, and never had
Rosemary been so loving or so sweet.

At night Ralston had remained with his wife in her room till twelve.
They had talked of their wonderful meeting on the _Aquitania_, and the
life to which it had led. Then the clock striking midnight reminded
Rosemary that it was late. She had a headache, she said, and would take
some aspirin. Murray was banished to his own room, which adjoined hers,
but the door was left open between.

It was some time before Ralston went to sleep, yet he heard no sound
from Rosemary's room. At last, however, he must have slumbered heavily,
for he knew no more till dawn. Somehow, he had got into the habit of
rousing at six, though he generally dozed again. This time he waked as
usual, and, remembering Rosemary's headache, tiptoed to the door and
peeped into the darkened room. To his surprise she was not in bed.
Still, he was not worried. His thought was that she had risen early and
stealthily, not to rouse him, and that she had gone to the bathroom next
door to bathe and dress for an early walk.

He tapped at the bathroom door, but getting no answer, turned the
handle. Rosemary was not in the room, and there were no towels lying
about.

Murray's next move was to draw back the curtains across one of the open
windows; and it was then that he saw an envelope stuck into the mirror
over the dressing table. His name was on it, and with a stab of
apprehension he broke the seal.

The letter which this envelope had contained he showed to Jim and me. It
was written in pencil, and was very short. It said:

Good-bye, my Beloved. I must go, and I cannot even tell you why.
You may find out some day, but I hope not, for both our sakes. It
would only make you more unhappy. You would hate me, I t