to the window. It was several minutes before he turned and met the
younger man's gaze with his own.

"I guess I can go now," he said in a voice which seemed at once
triumphant and inexpressibly sad.

"I don't understand...."

"You've learned all I have to teach you, lad." Good's deep voice was
low, but it reverberated sonorously in the little room. "You're on the
bridge now. You're in deep water. You can drop the pilot."

"What the dickens are you driving at, anyway?"

"I'm quitting, Roger." The words were said almost in a whisper, and the
deep-set, wistful eyes gleamed very tenderly. "My work's done. It's up
to you now."

"You don't mean ... you're not leaving the paper? Why, that's nonsense!
It can't be. What's upset you, anyhow? Oh, come, this won't do, you
know. I won't have it. I simply won't. Why, good Lord, man--I'd be
lost!"

"No." Good shook his head and his voice vibrated as if he found it
difficult to hold it in check. "You're free now. This talk proved it.
You don't need me any longer. I've done my work. It's time to wander."

"But w-w-_why_?" stammered Roger. "Can't you give any reason? What's the
trouble at the bottom of it? You haven't had a fuss with sis, have you?
Surely you're not doing this just because I'm more on my feet than I
was? I'm far from not needing you, God knows. Aren't there other
reasons?"

"Yes," said Good dully, "there are other reasons."

"Well, good Lord," cried Roger in exasperation mingled with alarm.
"Won't you tell them?"

"No," said Good shortly, "I won't." Then, abruptly, he held out his
hand. "Good-bye, lad. Here's luck." His voice broke, and he turned.
Before Roger could get around the desk to him, the door had closed and
he was gone.

The young man stood with his jaw hanging. He was utterly nonplussed.
Good had gone out of his life as suddenly, as unreasonably, as amazingly
as he had come into it. He racked his brains futilely for an
explanation. Had he been a trifle younger it is probable that he would
have wept.

It was the end of the day, and darkness had fallen. But even if it had
been the first hour of the morning he would have gone home at once. The
office had become unendurable.

He found Judith having tea with Imrie. Though of a thoroughly objective
nature, not given to unnecessary straying into imaginative by-paths,
particularly those with unpleasant endings, Roger was far from
insensible to the grim irony of the situation. He almost laughed as