“Good-by, Maggie,” said Tommy. Then he threw his arms about her neck and kissed her on her cheeks. “Take care of him, Maggie. If—anything happens telegraph me. I'll send you my address.”
“What can happen? He's as strong as he ever was,” said Maggie, calmly.
Tommy went up-stairs to the library, where he was sure his father had gone. Through the open door he saw his father pacing up and down the room. He was shaking his head as men do when they are arguing with themselves, and his hands were clenching and unclenching spasmodically.
Thomas F. Leigh turned on his heels and walked down the stairs very quietly. He had entered into his new life. It was a life of bitter loneliness.
He could have no friends, because his secret could not be shared. He felt the loneliness in advance. It almost overwhelmed him.
In the hall, as his hand grasped the knob of the street door, without knowing that he craved to hear the sound of a living voice in order to dispel the stifling silence that enveloped his soul, Tommy Leigh said, aloud:
“It's up to me to make good!”