. Your tragedy tempered
by my trust in human nature, and the power that causes things to right
themselves. Good-night, old boy."

"Good-night."

When Henley had left the room, Tren-chard sat for a moment with his head
sunk low on his breast and his eyes half closed. Then, with a jerk, he
gained his feet, went to the door, opened it, and looked forth on the
deserted landing. He listened, and heard Henley moving to and fro in his
bedroom. Then he shut the door, took off his smoking-coat, and bared his
left arm. There was a tiny blue mark on it.

"What will the _denouement_ be?" he whispered to himself, as he felt in
his waistcoat pocket with a trembling hand.

II.

The book was moving onward by slow degrees and with a great deal of
discussion.

In those days Henley and Trenchard lived much with sported oaks.
They were battling for fame. They were doing all they knew. Literary
gatherings missed them. First nights knew them no more. The grim
intensity that was always characteristic of Trenchard seemed in some
degree communicated to Henley. He began to more fully understand what
the creating for one's self of an atmosphere meant. The story he and his
friend were fashioning fastened upon him like some strange, determined
shadow from the realms of real life, gripped him more and more closely,
held him for long spells of time in a new and desolate world. For the
book so far was a deepening tragedy, and although, at times, Henley
strove to resist the paramount influence which the genius of Trenchard
began to exercise over him, he found himself comparatively impotent,
unable to shed gleams of popular light upon the darkness of the pages.
The power of the tale was undoubted. Henley felt that it was a big
thing that they two were doing; but would it be a popular thing--a
money-making thing? That was the question. He sometimes wished with all
his heart they had chosen a different subject to work their combined
talent upon. The germ of the work seemed only capable of tragic
treatment, if the book were to be artistic. Their hero was a man of
strong intellect, of physical beauty, full at first of the joy of life,
chivalrous, a believer in the innate goodness of human nature. Believing
in goodness, he believed also ardently in influence. In fact, he was
a worshipper of influence, and his main passion was to seize upon the
personalities of others, and impose his own personality upon them. He
loved to make men and women see