ke poison in his
brain. Had his hold on her been so slight, after all? "She despises
me. She hates me!" And in his heart he despised and hated himself. He
cursed his poverty, his lack of resource. "Why am I, the evangel of
this faith, dependent on others for revelation. Why must I beg and
cringe for money, for power?" He was in the full surge of this flood
of indignant query when Pratt shuffled into his room.

"Some reporters below want to see you. I guess you better--"

Clarke turned, the glare of madness in his eyes. "Curse you and your
reporters! Go away from me! I don't want to be bothered by you nor by
them."

Pratt stared in dull surprise, which turned slowly to anger. "What's
the matter with you _now_?" he roared. "Damn you, anyway. You've upset
my whole house with your crazy notions. Everything was moving along
nicely till you got this bug of a big speech into your head, and then
everything in my life turns topsy-turvy. To hell with you and your
book! You can't use me to advertise yourself. I want you to understand
that right now. I see your scheme, and it don't work with me."

He was urging himself into a frenzy--his jaws working, his eyes
glittering, like those of a boar about to charge, all his concealed
dislike, his jealousy of the preacher's growing fame and of his
control of Viola turning rapidly into hate. "I don't know why you're
eating my bread," he shouted, hoarsely. "I've put up with you as long
as I am going to. You're nothing but a renegade preacher, a dead-beat,
and a hypocrite. Get out before I kick you out!"

This brought the miserable evangel to a stand. "I'll go," he said,
defiantly, "but I'll take your psychic with me--we'll go together."

"Go and be damned to the whole tribe of ye!" retorted Pratt, purple
with fury. "Go, and I'll publish you for a set o' leeches--that's what
I'll do," and with this threat he turned on his heel and went out,
leaving Clarke stupefied, blinded by the force of his imprecations.

The situation had taken another turn for the worse. To leave the house
of his own will was bad enough; to be kicked out by his host, and to
be followed by his curse was desolating. "And yet this I could endure
if only she would speak to me--would go with me."

He fell at last into a deep gulf of self-pity. Yesterday, now so far
away, so irrevocable, was full of faith, of promise, of happiness, of
grand purpose; now every path was hid by sliding sand. The world was a
chaos. His bo