ng policemen.

George Benedict sprang from the car before it had stopped, and nearly fell
again. His nerves were not steady from his other fall yet. He tore into
the station and out through the passageway past the beckoning hand of the
ticket-man who sat in the booth at the staircase, and strode up three
steps at a time. The guard shouted: "Hurry! You may get it; she's just
starting!" and a friendly hand reached out, and hauled him up on the
platform of the last car.

For an instant after he was safely in the car he was too dazed to think.
It seemed as if he must keep on blindly rushing through that train all the
way to Chicago, or she would get away from him. He sat down in an empty
seat for a minute to get his senses. He was actually on the train! It had
not gone without him!

Now the next question was, Was she on it herself, or had she in some way
slipped from his grasp even yet? The old butler might have caught her by
telephone. He doubted it. He knew her stubborn determination, and all at
once he began to suspect that she was with intention running away from
him, and perhaps had been doing so before! It was an astonishing thought
and a grave one, yet, if it were true, what had meant that welcoming smile
in her eyes that had been like dear sunshine to his heart?

But there was no time to consider such questions now. He had started on
this quest, and he must continue it until he found her. Then she should be
made to explain once and for all most fully. He would live through no more
torturing agonies of separation without a full understanding of the
matter. He got upon his shaking feet, and started to hunt for Elizabeth.

Then all at once he became aware that he was still carrying the box of
flowers. Battered and out of shape it was, but he was holding it as if it
held the very hope of life for him. He smiled grimly as he tottered
shakily down the aisle, grasping his floral offering with determination.
This was not exactly the morning call he had planned, nor the way he had
expected to present his flowers; but it seemed to be the best he could do.
Then, at last, in the very furthest car from the end, in the drawing-room
he found her, sitting gray and sorrowful, looking at the fast-flying
landscape.

"Elizabeth!" He stood in the open door and called to her; and she started
as from a deep sleep, her face blazing into glad sunshine at sight of him.
She put her hand to her heart, and smiled.

"I have brought you so