tenden. That much he knew and no more--not
even the man's name; but how he had wondered who and where and what
manner of man he was! And how he had longed to see him!

They were passing over a little bridge in a hollow where a cool current
of air struck them and the freshened odour of moistening green things in
the creek-bed--the first breath of the night that was still below the
cloudy horizon.

"Deterioration," said Judith, almost sharply. "What did you mean by
that?"

Crittenden hesitated, and she added:

"Go on; we are no longer children."

"Oh, it was nothing, or everything, just as you look at it. I made a
discovery soon after you went away. I found that when I fell short of
the standard you"--Crittenden spoke slowly--"had set for me, I got at
least mental relief. I _couldn't_ think of you until--until I had
recovered myself again."

"So you----"

"I used the discovery."

"That was weak."

"It was deliberate."

"Then it was criminal."

"Both, if you wish; but credit me with at least the strength to confess
and the grace to be ashamed. But I'm beginning all over again now--by
myself."

He was flipping at one shaft with the cracker of his whip and not
looking at her, and Judith kept silent; but she was watching his face.

"It's time," he went on, with slow humour. "So far, I've just missed
being what I should have been; doing what I should have done--by a
hair's breadth. I did pretty well in college, but thereafter, when
things begin to count! Law? I never got over the humiliation of my first
ridiculous failure. Business? I made a fortune in six weeks, lost it in
a month, and was lucky to get out without having to mortgage a farm.
Politics? Wharton won by a dozen votes. I just missed being what my
brother is now--I missed winning you--everything! Think of it! I am
five feet eleven and three-quarters, when I should have been full six
feet. I am the first Crittenden to fall under the line in a century. I
have been told"--he smiled--"that I have missed being handsome. There
again I believe I overthrow family tradition. My youth is going--to no
purpose, so far--and it looks as though I were going to miss life
hereafter as well as here, since, along with everything else, I have
just about missed faith."

He was quite sincere and unsparing, but had Judith been ten years older,
she would have laughed outright. As it was, she grew sober and
sympathetic and, like a woman, began to wonder, for the milliont