I'll tell him it's mine." Mrs.Wentworth went over and kissed the boy.

The picture rose to her mind of a young man fresh from fields where he had won renown, honored by his State, with everything that wealth and rank could give, laying his honors at the feet of a poor young girl.
"All right, my son." That night Norman sat down and wrote a letter.
A few days later than this, Gordon Keith received a letter with the post-mark "New York." Who was there in New York who could know him?
Not his young engineer.

He knew his hand.

He was now abroad.

As he read the letter he wondered yet more.