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<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> <h3>VACATIONS</h3></div> During this next week––the week Frances was on the ocean and sailing toward him––he gained in confidence day by day. Miss Winthrop was so absolutely sure of her point of view that it was difficult in her presence to have any doubts. Frances was due to arrive on Monday, and for Sunday he had arranged at Jacques’ a very special little dinner for Miss Winthrop. Miss Winthrop herself did not know how special it was, because all dinners there with him were special. There were roses upon the table. Their odor would have turned her head had it not been for the realization that her trunk was all packed and that to-morrow morning she would be upon the train. She had written to an aunt in Maine that she was coming––to this particular aunt because, of the three or four she knew at all, this aunt was the farthest from New York. <div>216</div> As for him, he had forgotten entirely that Monday marked the beginning of her vacation. That was partly her fault, because for the last week she had neglected to speak of it. Ordinarily she did not permit him to come all the way back to the house with her; but this night he had so much to talk about that she did not protest. Yes, and she was too weak to protest, anyway. All the things he talked about––his fears, his hopes, speculations, and doubts––she had heard over and over again. But it was the sound of his voice to which she clung. To-morrow and after to-morrow everything would be changed, and she would never hear him talk like this again. He was excited to-night, and buoyant and quick with life. He laughed a great deal, and several times he spoke very tenderly to her. They had reached her door, and something in her eyes––for the life of him he could not tell what––caused him to look up at the stars. They were all there in their places. “Look at ’em,” he said. “They seem nearer to-night than I’ve ever seen them.” <div class='figtag'> </div> <div class='figcenter'> <ANTIMG src='images/i216.jpg' alt='' title='' width-obs='447' height-obs='332' /> “I GUESS WOMEN ARE DIFFERENT FROM MEN” </div> She was a bit jealous of those stars. It had been when with her that he had first seen them. “You aren’t looking,” he complained. She turned her eyes to the sky. To her they seemed farther away than ever. “Maybe Frances is looking at those same stars,” he said. She resented the suggestion. She turned her eyes back to the street. “Where’s the star I gave you?” he asked. “It’s gone,” she answered. “Have you lost it?” “I can’t see it.” “Now, look here,” he chided her lightly. “I don’t call that very nice. You don’t have a star given you every night.” “I told you I didn’t need to have them given to me, because I could take all I wanted myself. You don’t own the stars too.” “I feel to-night as if I did,” he laughed. “I’ll have to pick out another for you.” He searched the heavens for one that suited him. He found one just beyond the Big Dipper, that shone steadily and quietly, like her eyes. He pointed it out to her. <div>217</div> “I’ll give you that one, and please don’t lose it.” She was not looking. “Do you see it?” he insisted. She was forced to look. After all, he could afford to give her one out of so many, and it would be something to remember him by. “Yes,” she answered, with a break in her voice. “That one is yours,” he assured her. It was as if he added, “All the rest belong to Frances.” She held out her hand to him. “Thank you for your star,” she said. “And––and I wish you the best of luck.” He took her hand, but he was confused by the note of finality in her voice. “I don’t see any need of being so solemn about saying good-night,” he returned. He continued to hold her hand firmly. “But it’s good-bye and––God-speed, too,” she reminded him. “How do you make that out?” “You’re going on a long journey, and I––I’m going on a little journey.” <div>218</div> “You? Where are you going?” He didn’t want her to go anywhere. He wanted her to stay right where she was. Come to think of it, he always wanted her to stay right where she was. He always thought of her as within reach. “My vacation begins to-morrow,” she answered. “And you’re going away––out of town?” She nodded. “You can’t do that,” he protested. “Why, I was depending upon you these next few days.” It was difficult for her to tell at the moment whether the strain in her throat was joy or pain. That he needed her––that was joy; that he needed her only for the next few days––that was not joy. “You mustn’t depend upon any one these next few days but yourself,” she answered earnestly. “And after that––just yourself and her.” “That’s well enough if everything comes out all right.” “Make it come out right. That’s your privilege 219 as a man. Oh, that’s why it’s so good to be a man!” “You ought to have been a man yourself,” he told her. She caught her breath at that, and insisted upon withdrawing her hand. “I used to think I’d like to be,” she answered. “And now?” She shook her head. He had swung the talk back to her again, when the talk should have been all of him and Frances. “It’s in you to get everything in the world you want,” she said. “I’m sure of that. All you have to do is to want it hard enough. And now there are so many things right within your grasp. You won’t let go of them?” “No,” he answered. “Your home, your wife, and your work––it’s wonderful to make good in so many things all at once! So––good-bye.” “You talk as if you were not coming back again!” <div>220</div> “I’m coming back to Carter, Rand & Seagraves––if that’s what you mean.” “And you’re coming back here––to your home?” “Yes; I’m coming back here.” “Then we’ll just say s’long.” “No. We must say good-bye.” She had not wished to say this in so many words. She had hoped he would take the new situation for granted. “When I come back you must look on me as––as Mr. Farnsworth does.” “That’s nonsense.” “No; it’s very, very good sense. It’s the only thing possible. Can’t you see?” “No.” “Then Frances will help you see.” “She won’t want to make a cad of me; I know that.” “I’m going in now.” She opened the door behind her. “Wait a moment,” he pleaded. “No, I can’t wait any longer. Good-bye.” She was in the dark hall now. “Good-bye,” she repeated. <div>221</div> “S’long,” he answered. Softly, gently, she closed the door upon him. Then she stumbled up the stairs to her room, and in the dark threw herself face down on her bed. <hr class='toprule' /> <div class='chsp'> 222 <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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