her to enter; then
she opened the door and stepped inside. It was Jean, this great fine
figure of a man, who turned so quickly toward her; but it was already
the Jean of the world where they wore shoes and stockings, and his
clothes were like the clothes of Monsieur Bliss. They made him very
handsome, very grand; only somehow they made it seem that her errand
was useless now, that she had come too late, that Jean was already gone.

Her eyes met his, smiled--and, from his face, strayed about the room.
It was very fine that American trunk, but not very large. It was like
one that mademoiselle had, that she called a steamer trunk, and carried
on the automobile--and the trunk was empty, and the tray was on the
floor beside it.

"Marie-Louise!" he cried--and then, a little awkwardly, he caught her
hands. "But--but what has brought you here, Marie-Louise?"

"To see you, Jean," she told him simply.

For a moment he stared at her uneasily. Was this then to be the scene
that he had dreaded, that he had been putting off? And then he laughed
a little unnaturally.

"Ah, did you think, then, Marie-Louise, that I had forgotten you? You
must not think that! Only, _mon Dieu_, what with Bidelot, and the
critics, and Marseilles, and the work all day at the new design, what
could I do? But Bidelot and the rest have returned to Paris, and
mademoiselle and monsieur go to-day; and this afternoon I was going to
find you and tell you about the great plans they have all made for me."

"Yes; I know, Jean," she answered. "And that is what I have come
for--to have a little talk about you and me."

"About my going away, you mean?" he said, infusing a lightness into his
voice. "But you must not feel sad about that, Marie-Louise. You would
not have me lose a chance like that! And it is only for a little
while, until I have learned what, they say, Paris will teach me. I
shall do great things in Paris, Marie-Louise--and then I shall come
back."

She shook her head slowly.

"Jean," she said very quietly, "it is about your coming back that I
want to speak to you. I have thought it all out last night. It is not
for a little while. When you go it is for always. You can never come
back."

"Never come back! Ah, is it that then that is troubling you?" he said
eagerly. "You mean that you would not mind my going for a little
while, only you think it is for more than that?"

"You do not understand, Jean"--it seemed as though she