ept Roper
Ellwell's invitation. The Four Corners faded from his imagination into
a murky blur, with one central point of white light made by a thin
summer dress, a girlish figure, a face that had come into the world
tired--devitalized.

The next morning he plunged again into a stress of work with his old
swing and intensity, as if single-handed at one spurt he was to make
his way to the close of his labors. He ate his hurried meals at a
little restaurant near the laboratory, and came back to his rooms late
at night, unexhausted, nervously eager to begin again.

IV

Ten days went by. One morning he woke late, listless and unprepared
for the usual tussle. The June sun was pouring into his rooms, the old
portieres shaking gently in the soft breeze. Outside the world was
flooded with sunlight. The new green grass, the full bushes along the
paths, the warm blue of the sky seemed to mock his petty ardors, his
foolish boyish designs of making prodigious strides. Life was not
accomplished that way. One made a little, a very little step, then
came lassitude; later, one must go over the same ground again. There
were no great strides in nature. All was accomplished by subtle
change. He dressed leisurely and looked about for a comfortable
breakfast. There was something stronger than work in the world,
especially to-day. He longed to meet the sunlight and earthly
blessedness; it was such a small thing to fag one's self out at the
laboratory. Half unconsciously he strolled toward the livery stable
where he kept his nag. And then a quarter of an hour later he found
himself on the turnpike, trotting along the fresh-water meadows,
sniffing the air and the scented brooks. He laughed at himself. His
horse plunged, freakish from his long rest in the stable. Suddenly he
spurred on and rode furiously over the country roads, as if mad to
reach a certain end. A little later, he cantered up the gravelled
drive of the Four Corners, his horse wet and trembling, and he with a
craving unexplained, a desire that had found a swift, brutal
expression.

"You took a long time to think about it," she was looking up at him
reproachfully, cool and fresh, with a morning blitheness about her, a
physical calm that he had not felt before. The horse shivered and
poked his head around to look at her.

He flung himself off the horse, and took her hands; she reached him
two as if one for a handshake would be inexpressive.

"But it is splendid now