Happiness promised for the near future, however.  Wearied of chasing a phantom hope of health from spot to spot, the elder Mrs. Eyre had finally elected to settle down for the summer at her Westchester place.  For obvious reasons, Io did not wish Banneker to come there.  But she would plan to see him in town.  Only, they must be very discreet; perhaps even to the extent of having a third person dine with them, her half-brother Archie, or Esther Forbes.  Any one, any time, anywhere, Banneker wrote back, provided only he could see her again!

The day that she came to town, having arranged to meet Banneker for dinner with Esther, fate struck from another and unexpected quarter.  Such was Banneker’s appearance when he came forward to greet her that Io cried out involuntarily, asking if he were ill.

“I’m not,” he answered briefly.  Then, with a forced smile of appeal to the third member, “Do you mind, Esther, if I talk to Io on a private matter?”

“Go as near as you like,” returned that understanding young person promptly.  “I’m consumed with a desire to converse with Elsie Maitland, who is dining in that very farthest corner.  Back in an hour.”

“It’s Camilla Van Arsdale,” said Banneker as the girl left.

“You’ve heard from her?”

“From Mindle who looks after my shack there.  He says she’s very ill.  I’ve got to go out there at once.”

“Oh, Ban!”

“I know, dearest, and after all these endless weeks of separation.  But you wouldn’t have me do otherwise.  Would you?”

“Of course not,” she said indignantly.  “When do you start?”

“At midnight.”

“And your work?”

“I’ll send my stuff in by wire.”

“How long?”

“I can’t tell until I get there.”

“Ban, you mustn’t go,” she said with a changed tone.

“Not go?  To Miss Camilla?  There’s nothing—­”

“I’ll go.”

“You!”

“Why not?  If she’s seriously ill, she needs a woman, not a man with her.”

“But—­but, Io, you don’t even like her.”

“Heaven give you understanding, Ban,” she retorted with a bewitching pretext of enforced patience.  “She’s a woman, and she was good to me in my trouble.  And if that weren’t enough, she’s your friend whom you love.”

“I oughtn’t to let you,” he hesitated.

“You’ve got to let me.  I’d go, anyway.  Get Esther back.  She must help me pack.  Get me a drawing-room if you can.  If not, I’ll take your berth.”

“You’re going to leave to-night?”

“Of course.  What would you suppose?” She gave him her lustrous smile.  “I’ll love it,” she said softly, “because it’s partly for you.”

The rest of the evening was consumed for Banneker in writing and wiring, arranging reservations through his influence with a local railroad official whom he pried loose from a rubber of bridge at his club; while Io and Esther, dinnerless except for a hasty box of sandwiches, were back in Westchester packing and explaining to Mrs. Eyre.  When the three reconvened in Io’s drawing-room the traveler was prepared for an indefinite stay.