awful about Ruth. Whatever she's doing there, it's all right."
"You don't know," he groaned.
"I know Ruth, and that's enough. Of course she's all right. Don't let's get absurd. I can't understand it, of course, but after all"
"Oh, please," almost shuddered Bob, "don't let's talk about it. I don't want to think about it. She has been such a beautiful memory, and now—please don't talk about it."
"All right," I said and leaned back and gazed out of the window, stunned by his news, frightened more than I dared to show.
We rumbled on in silence for half an hour. I was dimly aware that Bob bought a magazine. Will joined us later, sat down, and fell off to sleep. Bob got up and announced that he was going into the smoking-car. His composure of the early afternoon had left him. He appeared nervous and disturbed. He looked distressed. Just outside Providence he returned to the car with a porter and began gathering up his belongings.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Nothing much," he replied shortly, "only I'm going back to New York. I'm going back now—tonight, that's all."
