He was indeed becoming self-conscious, as if on exhibition, somehow--and this feeling deepened as the days passed, for nothing happened.

No lurking forms showed in the shadow of the pines.

No voice called "Halt!" It became more and more like a stage play.
He was much disturbed by Jack's letter which was waiting for him one night when he returned to Wagon Wheel.
"DEAR HARRY: I went up to see Mary a few weeks ago and found she had gone to Chicago.

Her father died over a year ago and she decided soon after to go to the city and go on with her music.

She's in some conservatory there.