aid quietly, but his face whitened visibly.

"You say that as if you had been expecting it."

"I have. I knew from the beginning that when this was over you would
dislike me for having seen you suffer. I have grown my Gethsemane in a
full realization of what was coming, but I could not leave you, Edith,
so long as it seemed to me that I was serving you. Does it make any
difference to you where I go?"

"I want you where you will be loved, and good care taken of you."

"Thank you!" said Henderson, smiling grimly. "Have you any idea where
such a spot might be found?"

"It should be with your sister at Los Angeles. She always has seemed
very fond of you."

"That is quite true," said Henderson, his eyes brightening a little. "I
will go to her. When shall I start?"

"At once."

Henderson began to tack for the landing, but his hands shook until
he scarcely could manage the boat. Edith Carr sat watching him
indifferently, but her heart was throbbing painfully. "Why is there so
much suffering in the world?" she kept whispering to herself. Inside her
door Henderson took her by the shoulders almost roughly.

"For how long is this, Edith, and how are you going to say good-bye to
me?"

She raised tired, pain-filled eyes to his.

"I don't know for how long it is," she said. "It seems now as if it had
been a slow eternity. I wish to my soul that God would be merciful to
me and make something 'snap' in my heart, as there did in Phil's,
that would give me rest. I don't know for how long, but I'm perfectly
shameless with you, Hart. If peace ever comes and I want you, I
won't wait for you to find it out yourself, I'll cable, Marconigraph,
anything. As for how I say good-bye; any way you please, I don't care in
the least what happens to me."

Henderson studied her intently.

"In that case, we will shake hands," he said. "Good-bye, Edith. Don't
forget that every hour I am thinking of you and hoping all good things
will come to you soon."

CHAPTER XXV

WHEREIN PHILIP FINDS ELNORA, AND EDITH CARR OFFERS A YELLOW EMPEROR

"Oh, I need my own violin," cried Elnora. "This one may be a thousand
times more expensive, and much older than mine; but it wasn't inspired
and taught to sing by a man who knew how. It doesn't know 'beans,' as
mother would say, about the Limberlost."

The guests in the O'More music-room laughed appreciatively.

"Why don't you write your mother to come for a visit and bring yours?"
suggested