"I will follow him there."

"No, I could n't allow you. It is two hours from town. You have
already given generously of your time."

"Miss Arsdale," he said gently, "we of the inner woods must stand by
each other. This week is a sort of vacation for me. I am quite free."

Yes, she was she he had seen through the tops of the whispering pines
when he had thought it nothing but the blue sky; she was she who had
brushed close to him when he had thought it only the rustling of dry
leaves. Now that she stood beside him, his heart cried out, "Why did
you not come before? Why did you not come a week ago?" If she could
have stood for one brief second in that dingy office which had slowly
closed in upon him until it squeezed the soul out of him, then he would
have forced back the walls again. If only once she had walked by his
side through the crowds, then he would have caught their cry in time.
The world had narrowed down to a pin prick, but if only she had come a
scant two days ago, she would have bent his eye to this tiny aperture
as to the small end of a telescope as she did now and made him see big
enough to grasp the meaning of life.

Well, the past was dead--even with her eyes magnifying the days to
eternities; the past was dead, even with the delicate poise of her lips
ready to utter prophecies. He must not forget that, and in remembering
this he must choose this opportunity for exiling himself from her for
the day. This mission would consume some six hours. It would take him
out of the city where he would be able to think more clearly. This was
well.

"Have you any idea how the trains run?" he inquired.

"I looked them up. There is one at 9.32."

"I can make it easily," he answered, glancing at the big clock. He had
left his own watch at the hotel. He refused to carry so grim a
reminder. "I suppose I 'll have no trouble in finding the place."

"You would ask for the Arsdale bungalow," she answered. "Every one
there knows it. But the chances are so slight--it is only that his
father went out there once. After several days Jacques, Marie's boy
and father's servant, found him hidden in the unused cottage. I
thought that possibly Ben might remember this."

"I should say that it was more than probable that he would go there if
his object is to keep in hiding."

"It is three miles from the station and quite secluded."

"That will make a good walk for me."

He rose to leave at once. But she,