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Blindly he looked about for his hat, scarcely realizing it was in the hall. Blindly he stepped back when Mrs Poindexter’s hand moved towards him half a foot through the mist and Mrs Poindexter’s voice said softly, “I’m sorry.” Then he was in the hall, the note still clutched in the hand that struggled through the sleeve of his overcoat, the words which he felt he must somehow say choking through his lips. “I didn’t understand. I regret very much that I’ve bothered you. It wasn’t dear to me how matters stood—between Noel and me——” His hand was on the door knob. “I’m sorry, too,” said Mrs Poindexter. “I didn’t realize from what Noel said that what I had to do would be so hard—Mr Templeton.” “Chandler,” he corrected her dully. “My name’s Chandler.” She stood dead still; suddenly her face

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