There was a quiet sympathy in his tone.

"A little," Thompson admitted grimly. "But I'm getting used to jolts. I
had no claim on--on them."

"We both lost out," Tommy Ashe said thoughtfully. "Sophie Carr is one
woman in ten thousand. I think she's the most remarkable girl I ever
came across anywhere. She knows what she wants, and neither of us quite
measured up. She liked me too--but she wouldn't marry me. Before you
came she tried to convince me of that. And I wasn't slow to see that you
interested her, that as a man she gave you a good deal of thought,
although your--er--your profession's one she rather makes light of.
Women are queer. I didn't know but you might have taken her by storm.
And then again, I rather imagined she'd back off when you got serious."

"I was a fool," Thompson muttered.

"I wouldn't say that," Tommy responded gently. "A man couldn't resist
her. I've known a lot of women one way and another. I never knew one
could hold a candle to her. She has a mind like a steel trap, that girl.
She understood things in a flash, moods and all that. She'd make a real
chum, as well as a wife. Most women aren't, y'know. They're generally
just one or the other. No, I'd never call myself a fool for liking
Sophie too well. In fact a man would be a fool if he didn't.

"She likes men too," Tommy went on musingly. "She knew it. I suppose
she'll be friendly and curious and chummy, and hurt men without meaning
to until she finds the particular sort of chap she wants. Oh, well."

"How's the trapping?"

Thompson changed the subject abruptly. He could not bear to talk about
that, even to Tommy Ashe who understood out of his own experience, who
had exhibited a rare and kindly understanding.

"I've been wondering if I could make a try at that. I've got to do
something. I've quit the ministry."

Tommy looked at him for a second.

"Why did you get out?" he asked bluntly.

"I'm not fitted for it," Thompson returned. "I've been through hell for
four months, and I've lost something--some of that sublime faith that a
man must have. I'm not certain about a lot of things I have always taken
for granted. I'm not certain I have an immortal soul which is worth
saving, let alone considering myself peculiarly fitted to save other
people's souls. I'd be like a blind man leading people with good eyes.
It has come to seem to me that I've been trained for the ministry as a
carpenter is trained for his trade. I can't go on feeling