r Miss Delorme; and especially as you have known the latter but a few
hours in all--hardly sufficient, I should think, to inspire a lifelong
devotion. Truly, Julian, I would advise you not to take matters quite so
seriously, and let the tide drift as it will for the present."

Throughout this long harangue Julian Goetze had listened in silence.

"Oh, Harry," he groaned, as the other paused, "you don't know what a
traitor I am!"

"Well, possibly my sensibilities are not over fine, but I think you will
be more comfortable for taking my advice."

Without replying, the artist rose and going into the adjoining room
returned a moment later with a decanter and glasses.

"I am tired," he said, apologetically, as he caught the look of
disapproval in his friend's eye; "it will do me good."

"None for me, Julian, before supper, and--I don't think, if--if I were
you, I would take any, either."

"I am exhausted, Harry; I am not going to supper and I need it," he
said, fretfully.

The other sighed and did not reply. Goetze filled one of the glasses and
drank it off, then he resumed his seat by the window. A little later his
friend took leave of him; reaching the street door he hesitated as if
about to turn back, then he lifted the latch, and passed slowly out into
the lighted street, closing the door gently behind him.

The next morning the studio of Julian Goetze was locked. It remained
locked all day, and within, stretched upon the floor, unconscious, lay
the gifted man, and by his side was an empty flask.

V.

Perhaps Julian Goetze did not willingly abide by the somewhat fallacious
reasoning of his friend. It is more than probable that each time he
succumbed to the savage elements of his nature, he did so with
reluctance and shame, with subsequent remorse, and good resolutions
formed a score of times, perhaps, to be as often broken.

As the weeks went by he became more and more involved in this singular
affair. In a way he had found it possible, as his friend had once
suggested, to be in love with two women at one time.

When he was with Eva Delorme his love for the pure, beautiful girl
seemed to take entire possession of his life. Evelin March, for the
time, was as hateful to him as his own weakness, or was wholly
forgotten.

When in the presence of Evelin March his better self shrank away before
the fierce heredity within him, and the face of Eva Delorme became only
a dim, haunting ghost that taunted him