and women in the world. Each man must find it out for himself. You haven't—yet."
"But, so help me God, I will!" declared George with rising emphasis, and, suddenly indomitable again, he started up and seemed about to take himself away.
"Where are you going?" asked the doctor, apprehensively.
"To New York to bring her back."
"Don't!" said the doctor impressively. "I advise against it. It will lose you your chance. Be patient. Be self-contained. Be resigned. If you have lost her, she is gone from you beyond your power to bring her back. If you have not, there is still hope that your absence, not your presence, may rekindle her love for you. You have always been devoted to her—in your blind, self-engrossed fashion. Leave that to fight for you—that and the boy! Go back to all that's left you—your job—and do it! Try to bear yourself in such a big way that it will challenge her admiration once more, that it will make her turn to you like the magnet to the pole."
George appeared to listen with the humble faith of a child. "But how is she going to know what I do now?" he objected.
"I fancy she will know—that she will find a way, or has arranged a way, to keep herself informed of all your goings on." The doctor came near with lowered voice and a hand sym-
