with you."

She said, unsteadily, "Oh no; you've got your packing to do--" Then she
kissed him swiftly, and hurried downstairs.

"But Eleanor, wait!" he called; "I'll go with--"

She had gone. He heard the front door close. He stood still in his
perplexity. What was the matter? She had got over that jealousy of
Edith in an instant; got over it, and accepted his departure without all
those wearying protestations of love and loneliness to which he was
accustomed. "Is she angry," he told himself; "or just ashamed of having
been so foolish?" Mechanically, he picked out some neckties from his
drawer, and paused.... "But she wasn't foolish. I do love Edith.... How
did she get on to it? She is so good to me about Jacky--and I love
Edith!" He went on packing his grip. "I wonder if any man ever paid as I
am paying?--I'll call her up at Mrs. Newbolt's, before I go, and say
good-by."

No doubt he would have done so, but when he went downstairs he found
Johnny Bennett, smoking comfortably before that very cheerful little
fire.

"I dropped in," said Johnny, "to ask for some dinner."

"If you'll take pot luck," said Maurice; "Eleanor isn't at home, and I
don't know what the lady below stairs will work off on us." (It would be
a relief, he thought, to have somebody at table, so that he would not be
alone with his own confusion.)

"I came," Johnny said, "to tell you I'm off."

"Off? When? Where to? I thought your electric performances were panning
out so well--"

"Oh, they're panning out all right," John said; "but they'll pan out
better in South America. I'm going the first of the month."

"South America! What's the matter with Pennsylvania?"

"Well," Johnny said; "I thought I'd light out--"

Then they began to talk climate, and consulates, which carried them
through dinner, and went on in the library, and Maurice's surface
interest in Johnny's affairs, at least kept him from thinking of his own
dismay.

"But I supposed," he said, and paused, "I sort of thought you--had
reasons for staying round here?"

"There's no use hanging round," John said; "it's better to pull out
altogether. It's easier that way," he said, simply. "So I'm off for a
year. They wanted me to sign for three years, but I said, 'one.' Things
may look better for me when I get home."

Maurice, standing with his back to the fire, his hands in his pocket,
looked down at the steady youngster--looked at the mild eyes behind
those large spectacles, look