ance against the
world was that he had to leave it occasionally to earn his bread and
meat. Apart from this he never left it in those days except for one
reason, viz., the consumption three times a day of the said bread and
meat. Probably this was one explanation of the marked pallor of his
cheek, but of such details as this he never took the smallest notice.

Under the tiny bed were three boxes of books, chief fruit of the savings
of an inexpensive lifetime. But the books were now merely the occasional
stimulus of a mind already well stored with their strength, well
fortified against their weaknesses. Nowadays nearly all of Queed's time,
which he administered by an iron-clad Schedule of Hours, duly drawn up,
went to the actual writing of his Magnum Opus. He had practically
decided that it should be called "The Science of Sciences." For his book
was designed to cooerdinate and unify the theories of all science into
the single theory which alone gave any of them a living value, namely,
the progressive evolution of a higher organized society and a higher
individual type. That this work would blaze a wholly new trail for a
world of men, he rarely entertained a doubt. To its composition he gave
fifteen actual hours a day on _Post_ days, sixteen hours on non-_Post_
days. Many men speak of working hours like these, or even longer ones,
but investigation would generally show that all kinds of restful
interludes are indiscriminately counted in. Queed's hours, you
understand, were not elapsed time--they were absolutely net. He was one
of the few men in the world who literally "didn't have time."

He sat in Colonel Cowles's office, scribbling rapidly, with his eye on
his watch, writing one of those unanswerable articles which were so much
dead space to a people's newspaper. It was a late afternoon in early
February, soon after the opening of the legislature; and he was alone in
the office. A knock fell upon the door, and at his "Come," a girl
entered who looked as pretty as a dewy May morning. Queed looked up at
her with no welcome in his eye, or greeting on his lip, or spring in the
pregnant hinges of his knee. Yet if he had been a less self-absorbed
young scientist, it must certainly have dawned on him that he had seen
this lady before.

"Oh! How do you do!" said Sharlee, for it was indeed no other.

"Oh--quite well."

"Miss Leech tells me that Colonel Cowles has gone out. I particularly
wished to see him. Perhaps you know