tell me where lives the Fraulein Harmony. The Herr
Georgiev eats not nor sleeps that he cannot find her."

Dr. Jennings was puzzled.

"She wishes to know where the girl lives," she interpreted to Mrs.
Boyer. "A man wishes to know."

"Naturally!" said Mrs. Boyer. "Well, don't tell her."

Olga gathered from the tone rather than the words that she was not to
be told. She burst into a despairing appeal in which the Herr Georgiev,
Peter, a necktie Peter had forgotten, open windows, and hot water were
inextricably confused. Dr. Jennings listened, then waved her back with a
gesture.

"She says," she interpreted as they walked on, "that Dr. Peter--by which
I suppose she means Dr. Byrne--has left a necktie, and that she'll be in
hot water if she does not return it."

Mrs. Boyer sniffed.

"In love with him, probably, like the others!" she said.

CHAPTER XIX

Peter went to Semmering the next morning, tiptoeing out very early and
without breakfast. He went in to cover Jimmy, lying diagonally across
his small bed amid a riot of tossed blankets. The communicating door
into Harmony's room was open. Peter kept his eyes carefully from it,
but his ears were less under control. He could hear her soft breathing.
There were days coming when Peter would stand where he stood then and
listen, and find only silence.

He tore himself away at last, closing the outer door carefully behind
him and lighting a match to find his way down the staircase. The Portier
was not awake. Peter had to rouse him, and to stand by while he donned
the trousers which he deemed necessary to the dignity of his position
before he opened the street door.

Reluctant as he had been to go, the change was good for Peter. The dawn
grew rosy, promised sunshine, fulfilled its promise. The hurrying crowds
at the depot interested him: he enjoyed his coffee, taken from a bare
table in the station. The horizontal morning sunlight, shining in
through marvelously clean windows, warmed the marble of the floor, made
black shadows beside the heaps of hand luggage everywhere, turned into
gold the hair of a toddling baby venturing on a tour of discovery. The
same morning light, alas! revealed to Peter a break across the toe of
one of his shoes. Peter sighed, then smiled. The baby was catching at
the bits of dust that floated in the sunshine.

Suddenly a great wave of happiness overwhelmed Peter. It was a passing
thing, born of nothing, but for the instant that it last