e such
long be his friend? Life moved in schools of those who could run a
certain pace, maintain a certain standard of appearances, compel a
certain grade of respect and efficiency in others. Colfax was his
friend--for the present. So was Winfield. About him were scores and
hundreds who were apparently delighted to grasp his hand, but for what?
His fame? Certainly. His efficiency? Yes. Only by the measure of his
personal power and strength could he measure his friends--no more.

And as for love--what had he ever had of love before? When he went back
in his mind, it seemed now that all, each, and every one, had been
combined in some way with lust and evil thinking. Could he say that he
had ever been in love truly? Certainly not with Margaret Duff or Ruby
Kenny or Angela--though that was the nearest he had come to true
love--or Christina Channing. He had liked all these women very much, as
he had Carlotta Wilson, but had he ever loved one? Never. Angela had won
him through his sympathy for her, he told himself now. He had been
induced to marry out of remorse. And here he was now having lived all
these years and come all this way without having truly loved. Now,
behold Suzanne Dale with her perfection of soul and body, and he was
wild about her--not for lust, but for love. He wanted to be with her, to
hold her hands, to kiss her lips, to watch her smile; but nothing more.
It was true her body had its charm. In extremes it would draw him, but
the beauty of her mind and appearance--there lay the fascination. He was
heartsick at being compelled to be absent from her, and yet he did not
know that he would ever be able to attain her at all.

As he thought of his condition, it rather terrified and nauseated him.
To think, after having known this one hour of wonder and superlative
bliss, of being compelled to come back into the work-a-day world! Nor
were things improving at the office of the United Magazines Corporation.
Instead of growing better, they were growing worse. With the diversity
of his interests, particularly the interest he held in the Sea Island
Realty and Construction Company, he was growing rather lackadaisical in
his attitude toward all magazine interests with which he was connected.
He had put in strong men wherever he could find them, but these had come
to be very secure in their places, working without very much regard to
him since he could not give them very much attention. White and Colfax
had become intima