Kate rose abruptly, walked back to her seat and began to fumble about the baggage.
The Mayor nodded his head emphatically. "There's nothin' like it!"
The cry, "All aboard," sounded through the car, and they rose. The Mayor said good-bye, and after him Tom. Then David took Rogers's thin hand. The two men silently gazed at one another for a long moment; each realised he might never again look into the other's face.
"Good-bye, old man," breathed David, gripping his hand. "I hope it's going to be as you hope. God knows you deserve it!"
Rogers's large eyes clung to him. "I've never had a friend like you!" he said slowly. "Good-bye—and if it's to be the long good-bye, then ... well, good-bye!"
He broke off, then added: "You're going to try to help change some things we both know are wrong. Never forget one thing: the time to reform a criminal is before he becomes one. Save the kids.—God bless you!"
The car began slowly to move. They gripped hands again, and David hurried back to Kate, whom the Mayor had just left and who was kissing Tom good-bye. David took her hand, and on gazing into her dark eyes and restrained face, it rushed upon him anew how much joy she had brought him and how much misery he had given her; and suddenly he was without a single word to say farewell.
"Good-bye," she said with a forced calmness.
"Forgive me!" he burst out in a whisper. "Your heart will tell you what I'd like to tell you. Forgive me!"
Her head sank forward in affirmation. "But you've done nothing."