ss the
checker-board of life and death. "The two cases afford no parallel. Ann
and Terry have remained in the social stations to which they were born,
while I--I stand outside all such ready-made, rule of thumb
classifications. By sheer impetus of personality I have lifted myself
out of the rut, so that not even you, with all your omniscience, dare
prophesy how far I am going or where I shall end."

It was plain that further talk would be useless. "I'm afraid I must be
going," Tabs said. "I wish you very good luck. I hope we part friends.
And of course you understand that I now consider myself entirely free to
do my utmost to win Terry for myself."

He extended his hand. Braithwaite made no motion to take it. He held
himself erect as if prepared for an affront. His tones were icy when he
spoke. "Before I shake hands with you, Lord Taborley, I have to know
what you mean by your utmost. With so many playing-cards out against me,
I don't stand the ghost of a show unless---- Perhaps I have no right to
expect it; I never asked quarter from any man. I was going to say,
unless you intend to be gallant----"

Tabs pocketed his hand and turned to limp into the sunlit thunder of the
Strand. "The merciful receive mercy, General. Perhaps we shall shake
hands some other day. How gallant I am depends entirely upon yourself."

V

He emerged into the swollen thoroughfare, where the traffic roared and
jostled like a torrent through a mountain gorge towards the broader
freedom of Trafalgar Square. He turned westward, walking swiftly for
the first hundred yards, rather fearing that he might be followed. Then
he slowed down; swift walking made his limp too painfully obvious.

He was dissatisfied with both himself and Braithwaite. He felt as though
he had gone to meet some one in a wood and had heard only the muttering
of a voice and the rustle of retreating footsteps. "If I had only seen
his face," he thought.

In recalling Braithwaite, he found himself picturing two persons, of
both of whom he had had separate and distinct glimpses: the one the
loyal man, who in years gone by had served him faithfully and shared so
many of his adventures; the other the arrogant, red-tabbed superior, who
had stolen his happiness without warning. It was impossible to resolve
the two into one. The first he still regarded with affection. The
second---- He had never allowed himself to hate any one. Hatred he held
to be back of breeding--a weak man's s