o each other only the
things that sting or the things that stab. Let us be friends. You must
give me your friendship, at least." I took her hand.

She looked strangely at me. "You want me to humble myself, to crawl at
your feet and beg your pardon," said she between her teeth. "But I
shan't." She snatched away her hand and threw back her head.

"I wish nothing but what is best for us both," said I. "But let us not
talk of it now--when neither of us is calm."

"You don't care for me!" she cried.

"Do _you_ love _me_?" I rejoined.

Her eyes shifted. I waited for her reply and, when it did not come, I
said: "Let us go to breakfast."

"I'll not go in just now," she answered, in a quiet tone, a sudden and
strange shift from that of the moment before. And she let me take her
hand, echoed my good-by, and made no further attempt to detain me.

That was a gloomy breakfast despite my efforts to make my own seeming of
good-humor permeate to the others. Mrs. Ramsay hid a somber face behind
the coffee-urn; Ed ate furiously, noisily, choking every now and then.
He drove me to the station; his whole body was probably as damp from his
emotions as were his eyes and his big friendly hand. The train got
under way; I drew a long breath. I was free.

But somehow freedom did not taste as I had anticipated. Though I
reminded myself that I had acted as any man with pride and self-respect
would have acted in such delicate circumstances, and though I knew that
Carlotta was no more in love with me than I was with her, this end to
our engagement seemed even more humiliating to me than its beginning had
seemed. It was one more instance of that wretched fatality which has
pursued me through life, which has made every one of my triumphs come to
me in mourning robes and with a gruesome face. In the glittering array
of "prizes" that tempts man to make a beast and a fool of himself in the
gladiatorial show called Life, the sorriest, the most ironic, is the
grand prize, Victory.

* * * * *

The parlor car was crowded; its only untaken seat was in the smoking
compartment, which had four other occupants, deep in a game of poker.
Three of them were types of commonplace, prosperous Americans; the
fourth could not be so easily classed and, therefore, interested
me--especially as I was in the mood to welcome anything that would crowd
to the background my far from agreeable thoughts.

The others called him "Doc," or W