K. drew a long breath. He had started, and now he must go on. Faith in

himself or no faith, he must go on. Life, that had loosed its hold on him

for a time, had found him again.

"I'll go over you carefully to-morrow, Jack. I'll tell you your chances


"I have a thousand dollars. Whatever you charge--"

"I'll take it out of my board bill in the new house!"

At four o'clock that morning K. got back from seeing Joe off. The trip had

been without accident.

Over Sidney's letter Joe had shed a shamefaced tear or two. And during the


night ride, with K. pushing the car to the utmost, he had felt that the

boy, in keeping his hand in his pocket, had kept it on the letter. When

the road was smooth and stretched ahead, a gray-white line into the night,

he tried to talk a little courage into the boy's sick heart.

"You'll see new people, new life," he said. "In a month from now you'll

wonder why you ever hung around the Street. I have a feeling that you're

going to make good down there."

And once, when the time for parting was very near,--"No matter what

happens, keep on believing in yourself. I lost my faith in myself once.

It was pretty close to hell."

Joe's response showed his entire self-engrossment.

"If he dies, I'm a murderer."

"He's not going to die," said K. stoutly.

At four o'clock in the morning he left the car at the garage and walked

around to the little house. He had had no sleep for forty-five hours; his

eyes were sunken in his head; the skin over his temples looked drawn and

white. His clothes were wrinkled; the soft hat he habitually wore was

white with the dust of the road.

As he opened the hall door, Christine stirred in the room beyond. She came

out fully dressed.

"K., are you sick?"

"Rather tired. Why in the world aren't you in bed?"

"Palmer has just come home in a terrible rage. He says he's been robbed of

a thousand dollars."


Christine shrugged her shoulders.

"He doesn't know, or says he doesn't. I'm glad of it. He seems thoroughly

frightened. It may be a lesson."

In the dim hall light he realized that her face was strained and set. She

looked on the verge of hysteria.

"Poor little woman," he said. "I'm sorry, Christine."

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