of his mouth tightened.

"What's the use of being a coward? I've got to get used to it--I'd as
well begin at once."

He deliberately took his seat on the little pillared balcony of the
clubhouse and watched the darkened window through the gathering
twilight. For the moment he gave up the fight--the devil had him by the
throat. He let the tears come without protest. He was alone and the
shadows were friendly.

He looked at his watch at last by the flickering light of the street
lamp and found to his surprise that it was nine o'clock. He had
forgotten to eat and felt no hunger. But he must do something. He might
get drunk and make a night of it. He couldn't feel any worse. He was in
hell anyway, and he had as well join the festivities for once.

He stepped inside, touched a bell and ordered a cocktail. He placed the
glass on the little table by his side, and looked at it. What an
asinine act, this pouring of poison into the stomach to cure a malady
of the soul! He smiled cynically and suddenly recalled something the
doctor was fond of repeating.

"My boy, I'm rich so long as there are millions of people in the world
poorer than I am."

Perhaps there was an antidote better than this poison. If he could lift
the curtain for a single moment in another life more hopeless and
wretched than his? It was worth trying.

He rose, left the liquor untouched, and in a few minutes was treading
his way through the throngs of the lower East Side. The pathetic figure
of a sleeping boy curled up beside a doorstep caught his eye--he
stopped and looked at him. Somewhere on this green earth a mother had
bent over the cradle of each of these little wild arabs and taught them
human speech at least! Now they were as the beasts of the field--and
worse--for the fields in which beasts roam at least are free. A great
wave of pity swept his heart and the hurt of his own tragedy began to
ease before the greater pain of the world. How happy his fate after
all--a sound mind in a sound body, youth, strength, power, friends,
culture, the inheritance of proud, untainted blood--what a fool he had
been an hour ago!

His eye caught the light streaming from a basement saloon on the
corner. Crowds of ugly looking wretches were hurrying down the rickety
stairs, and the sound of wheezy dance-hall music floated up from below.
He pulled his hat down over his eyes and entered.

The ceiling was low, and a crowd of more than fifty half-drunken men
and wome