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 demanding…. It was Angus who spoke first, spoke out of his distress and confusion, out of his dismay….

“You won’t go,” he said. “You mustn’t go….” Lydia did not reply. If she had spoken she would have sobbed. Her agitation was pitiful, would have been pitiful if one could have penetrated the disguise of her self-control to peer into her heart and her mind. It had come suddenly to Lydia Canfield that she was marching under orders to face the crisis of her life.

“Good-by, Angus,” she said gently.

“Good-by, Lydia,” he said, understanding her, that she wanted to be alone, to hide. “Good-by, Lydia.” Again and unconsciously his tone was a caress.

He walked with dragging steps to the bank; went through the outer office to his little private room without a word to Gene Goff or his assistant, and closed the door after him. There he sat down before his desk, thrust his hands deep into his pockets, and stared at the wall before him…. He loved Lydia Canfield! In this he sensed disaster and sought to reason the matter out—as men have vainly endeavored to reason out such matters since the dawn of time…. Until this day love had been a foreign emotion to him; his awareness of it had been purely