me sailing. You remember Gilmore? I had a letter from him this
morning, asking if I'd like to take his cottage and yawl. Does that
sound good?"

"Great," cried Howard. "Sailing--that's the game, and by gum,
swimming's the best of all ways of dropping adipose deposit. Wire
Gilmore and fix it. I'll drive you out to-morrow. By the way, I found a
letter from my cousin Harry among the others. He's in that part of the
world. He's frightfully gone on your wife, it appears."

Martin looked up quickly. "Where is she?" he asked.

"Why, they're both staying at the Hosacks' place at Easthampton. Didn't
you know that?" He was incredulous.

"No," said Martin.

Howard metaphorically clapped his hand over his mouth. Questions were
on the tip of his tongue. If Martin were not in the mood to take him
into his confidence, however, there must be a good reason for it,
but,--not to know where his wife was! What on earth was at the bottom
of all this? "All right," he said. "I've one or two things I must do,
and I'll be round in the morning, or is that too soon?"

"The sooner the better," said Martin. "I'll send the cook and Judson
down by the early train. They'll have things in shape by the time we
show up. I'm fed up with New York and can smell the water already. Will
you dine with me to-night and see a show?"

"I can't," said Howard, and laughed.

"I see. To-morrow, then."

"Right. Great work. So long, old son. Get busy and do what you have to
do to-day, then we can leave this frying pan to-morrow with nothing on
our minds."

"I haven't anything to do," said Martin.

Howard picked up his hat and caught it with his head in the manner of a
vaudeville artist. But he didn't go. He stood waiting, keyed to a great
sympathy. There was something in Martin's voice and at the back of his
eyes which made him see him plainly and suddenly as a man standing all
alone and wounded. But he waited in vain. There was a curious
silence,--a rather painful and embarrassing silence, during which these
two lads, who had been pretending to be men, dodged each other's eyes.

And then Howard, with an uncharacteristic awkwardness, and looking very
young, made a quick step forward, and with a sort of gentle roughness
grasped Martin by the arm. "But you've got something to say," he said.
"Good God, man, have we been pals for nothing? I hide nothing from you.
I can help."

But Martin shook his head. He tried to speak and failed. There was
something hard