“On passing Hebby’s door, that gaudy diamond flashed before me. I’ll leave the theft an unsolved mystery.
“When I was forced to reveal my presence to Hebler, I felt that I had balled things up hopelessly and that the only avenue of escape lay in flight—my long suit.
“My only solace in all this bungling mess I have made is that I have brought Jo and Marta together.
“With you at the ranch and Hebler in town, I don’t know how I could make my getaway but for Larry. I have telephoned him and he is to meet me near here, and by the time my little carrier dove delivers this, I shall be en route—for France. I’m weary of movies, and life is a delusion anyway.
“I admit it was wrong to deceive you—after the necessity for so doing had passed. You were kind—in intent; still, you might have been a wee bit nicer, don’t you think?
“Regretfully,
“PENELOPE.”
“P. S. Does it hurt now that I use your mother’s name?”
He read this letter as one who dreams and is but half conscious that it is a dream. He read it again and again, each time grasping bit by bit the realization of its contents and what they meant to him.
“She was right,” he thought. “I didn’t know what love meant. I do now—now that I missed it. I’ve lost her more surely than if she were a ‘hardened, young criminal.’ I shall never try to find her.”