"But, Dad," said Lewis, half turning in his seat, "you don't know
Natalie. You've never once talked to her."
Leighton shrugged his shoulders.
"I've met lots of men that know God; I've never seen one that could prove him. I know Natalie better—better——" Then suddenly his mind trailed off to its desert place. He would speak no more that night.
The next day they were off. Action and movement brought a measure of relief from the very start. Leighton glanced almost eagerly from the windows of the hurrying train, watching for the sudden turn and the new view. There remained in his eyes, however, a desperate question. Was "going away" still the sovereign cure?
At New York a cable awaited him. He opened it, read it, and turned bruskly to Lewis.
"I'm not going to London," he said. "I'm going to Naples direct. Old
Ivory will wait for me there. You'll be going to London, I suppose."
For the first time Lewis felt far away from his father. He flushed. He felt like crying, because it came upon him suddenly that he was far away from his father, that they had been traveling different roads for many days. Pride came to his aid.
"Yes," he said, steadily, "I shall go to London."
Leighton nodded and turned to Nelton. He gave him a string of rapid orders, to which Nelton answered with his frequent and unfailing: "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
"Wait here," said Leighton. "I'm going to answer this."