I remember. I'm going to be stuffed in with Tate
and--and the others?"

"Yes; but don't you recall, _you_ are to be redeemed--you are to be
my--my hero--in the end you are to be--splendid."

A deep groan was the only reply to this; the groan and the look of
growing misery on the man's face.

"You're to go back--you see I feel you once belonged somewhere else--and
take up your life-work with----"

"With?" Jock repeated the word hopelessly.

"With her--the girl."

"What girl?"

"Why the girl I'm going to create. First I thought I'd have her--Joyce;
but that doesn't stand clear in my thought--I cannot quite see just the
sort of girl--that could rouse you to--to great things."

Filmer was staring at the speaker with dazed and pitiful eyes. Then
Constance beheld a miracle. The stony misery melted as an infinite
sadness and pity overflowed.

Jock stood up, plunged his hands in his pockets and looked down at the
dissecter who had bared every sensitive nerve in his heart and soul.

"When--you write that book," the words drawled out the bitter thought,
"just omit--me--please--if you have any mercy."

"Jock!" Constance sprang to her feet. "Jock--how could I know that you
would care?"

"You--couldn't, of course."

"Is it because I saw you so?"

"No."

"You know of course--that I'd never speak of that to any one--I only
used it for my book."

"If that will help your book--take it; but leave out----"

"What?"

"The girl--the redemption--and----"

"Why?"

"Can't you--guess?"

"No." But as the word passed her lips, she did guess--and what she
surmised sent the blood rushing through her body.

"Don't be frightened, Miss Drew," Filmer was getting command of himself;
"there isn't going to be any redemption; nor any girl--that's all; don't
you see? There never is in such cases, and you want to be true to life
in that first, great American novel. You got your brush in the wrong pot
of local colour when you daubed me. No offence intended, or taken, I
hope. God bless you! strike your pencil through all that came after the
spree part. You're welcome to that, but I decline to let you ruin your
reputation by offering up the rest to the public."

He was laughing again, and the agony had passed from his careless face.

"And now?" he asked, "which way?"

"I'm going--home."

"Well, well, come along. I'm bound for the Reverend Kid myself. I've got
his mail in my pockets--and yours, too by thunder! You're too diver