o herself. But she must
lie, for she had not the strength to resist. The world was too hard,
the suffering too great. What could she tell John--that she had ceased
to love him and gone back to her old life? How he would despise her!
Yet it must be----. Her eyes blinded with scalding tears, she asked:

"Must I write--now?"

"I think you should," he replied kindly but firmly.

Dropping onto a seat near the table, she took up a pen.

"How shall I begin?" she asked tremulously.

He looked at her in surprise.

"Do you mean that you don't know what to say?"

She nodded and turned away her head, not daring to let him see her
white, tear-stained face. He made a step forward.

"Then I'll dictate a letter," he said.

"That's right," she half-sobbed. "I'll do just as you say. You're the
one to tell me now----"

"Address it the way you want to," he said. "I'm going to be pretty
brutal. In the long run, I think that is best, don't you?"

"It's up to you," she said quietly.

"Ready?"

"Begin."

Looking-over her shoulder, while she put pen to paper, he began to
dictate:

"This is the last letter you will ever receive from me. All is over
between us. I need not enter into explanations. I have tried and I
have failed. Do not think badly of me. It was beyond my strength.
Good-by. I shall not tell you where I've gone, but remind you of
what Brockton told you the last time he saw you. He is here now,
dictating this letter. What I am doing is voluntary--my own
suggestion. Don't grieve. Be happy and successful. I do not love
you----"

When she came to the last sentence, she stopped, laid her pen down, and
looked up at the broker.

"Will--please--" she protested.

But he insisted.

"It has got to go just that way," he said determinedly. "'I do not love
you.' Sign it 'Laura.' Fold it, put it in an envelope--seal it--address
it. Shall I mail it?"

She hesitated, and then stammered:

"No. If you don't mind, I'd sooner mail it myself. It's a sort of a
last--last message, you know. I'd like to send it myself."

Brockton went to the armchair, took his coat, and put it on.

"All right," he said cheerily. "You're a little upset now, and I'm
going. We are all to dine together to-night at seven-thirty. There'll
be a party. Of course you'll come."

"I don't think I can," she answered, with some embarrassment. "You
see----"

He understood. Nodding and pointing to the money he had left on