xtinguish his appetite, and a parlourmaid distress him, three
footmen induce pleasant ease of thought.

"A man born out of his time, in whom the disintegration of custom,
the fusing of the classes, produces an inner torment." And wondering
how he bore it, Owen began to think of an end for Harding, deciding
that sullen despair would take possession of him if the House of
Lords were seriously threatened. He would leave some seat of ancient
story, and proceed towards the midlands, seeking some blast furnace
wherein to throw himself. "A sort of modern Empedocles." And Owen
laughed aloud, for he was very much amused at his interpretation of
his friend's character. It was one which he did not think even his
friend would resent. "On the contrary, it would amuse him." And he
picked up a newspaper from the club table.

The first words he saw were "Evelyn Innes in America." "So she has
gone back to the stage, and without writing to me...." He sank back
in his armchair lost in a great bitterness but without resentment.
Next day, acting on a sudden resolve, he started for New York. But
he did not remain there very long, only a few days, returning to
England, exasperated, maddened against himself, unable to explain
the cause of his misfortune to Harding.

"I suppose you'll use it in a novel some day. I don't care if you do,
but you will never be able to explain how it happened." Harding
followed his friend into the study, thinking of the excellent cigar
which would be given to him more perhaps than of the story--a man
who suddenly finds his will paralysed. "It was just that, paralysis
of will, for after dinner when the time came to go to her I sat
thinking of her, unable to get out of my chair, saying to myself, 'In
five minutes, in five minutes,' and as the minutes went by I looked
at the clock, saying to myself, 'If I don't go now I shall be late.'
I can't explain, but it was almost a relief when I found it was too
late."

"What I don't understand is why you didn't go next day?"

"Nor do I; for naturally I wanted to see her, only I couldn't go,
something held me back, and in despair I returned to England, unable
to endure the strain. There you have it, Harding; don't ask me any
more for I can't tell you any more. During the voyage I was near out
of my mind, and could have thrown myself overboard, yet I couldn't
go to see her, though she is the only person I really care to see.
Of course friends are different," he added apolo