nd good luck to
you. Will write you soon from other side, addressing Savoy Hotel. Yours,
HARVEY FARNHAM."

I cannot say I felt any very deep disappointment at the thought that I
should not see my friend from the States again. I liked him, and had
found him a pleasant companion, but had it not been for the strange and
unpleasant dream which had somehow gifted him with an artificial
importance in my mind, I should have cherished few regrets at his sudden
flitting. As it was, I had a curious sense of uneasiness, and an
inexplicable impression that in some undefined way I had done him an
injustice, or been careless of his interests, though in reality I was
very sure I had done nothing of the kind.

Still, I could not shake off the feeling, and with an odd restlessness
upon me I started almost immediately after breakfast for a long walk.

For some time I went on without paying very much attention to the
direction I had taken, but mechanically I had passed along the
Embankment, so on through crowded Piccadilly, and thus to the Park.

The dreary stretch of sodden grass, with stripped trees, and here and
there a patch of dingy London snow, did not look particularly inviting,
but I went in, wondering a little at my own aimlessness of mood.

I had intended to do a good deal of writing during the morning and early
afternoon, but I knew that, even had I stayed at home, it would have
been impossible for me to put pen to paper.

The ubiquitous cyclist was to be seen in great numbers and to the best
advantage. At this time of year the "smart set" was for the most part
conspicuous by its absence, but there were some pretty and neatly
costumed young women, and as I pursued my way slowly, idly looking at
those who passed, there was a flash of red-gold hair as a slender figure
in dark grey cloth shot by, and I knew, with a quickening of my heart
throbs, that I had seen Miss Cunningham.

She was going very well, and I was admiring the pretty back with its
girlish shoulders and slim tapering waist, when suddenly a woman, riding
in the opposite direction, swerved across the road on her wheel, before
Miss Cunningham had been given either time to slacken her speed or to
turn out of the way.

A collision was inevitable, and without waiting for it to happen, as I
knew it must, in another instant I ran forward with great springing
strides.

It was all over before I could reach the place. Both had fallen, and
several passers-by on wheel