“Where is the City of Paris?” inquired Parmenter of him.
“There she is,” replied the officer, pointing to a majestic steamer in midstream, gay with flying colors, and heading down the river.
“Has she gone?” gasped Parmenter.
“It looks as if she had,” replied the officer, smiling.
In sudden weakness and despair Parmenter staggered to an empty truck, sat down on it, and buried his face in his hands.
[CHAPTER VII.]
THE WELCOME HOME.
Parmenter went back from New York to his home, and spent a night writing a letter to Professor Lee, which was to reach him at Paris. When it was finished the young man read it over, and threw it from him in disgust. It sounded tame, formal, insincere. He felt that such a letter would fail of its mission.