world, past, present and future,--to
Marian Thatcher, God bless her!"

"To Marian Thatcher--God bless her!" Cosden repeated after him; and
Huntington turned away to chuckle to himself that he had paid homage to
the reality while his friend believed him to be giving tribute to the
figment. He blessed the figment for bestowing her name upon the reality!

"Now for the renunciation," Huntington said solemnly, and one by one he
laid the long-cherished trophies upon the fire, watching in silence
their reduction to the elements. His success filled him with a spirit
of bravado. The opportunity might never come again.

"Once again, Connie old boy!" he cried.

He held out his disengaged hand and grasped Cosden's as he lifted his
refilled glass.

"To Marian Thatcher--God bless her!"

Cosden still held his glass after his friend placed his on the table.

"Would it seem a sacrilege if I asked you to join me in a toast?" he
asked, with an unnatural hesitation in his voice.

"Why,--no," Huntington said wonderingly. "Fill up the glasses again."

Then he held his high, waiting for his friend to speak.

"To Edith Stevens," Cosden finally blurted out,--"God bless her!"

"Edith Stevens!" Huntington almost choked in his surprise. "You don't
mean--"

"I don't know what I mean," Cosden admitted, blushing furiously; "but I
miss her like blazes, and I'm either in love or else I'm suffering from
a new disease the doctors haven't named!"

* * * * *

XXIII

* * * * *

The letter postmarked "New York," announcing Hamlen's arrival, did not
take Huntington by surprise, but it fulfilled his expectations sooner
than he expected. The desirability of making certain changes in
investments, the letter explained, made it necessary for Hamlen to come
to the States, and if his classmate's invitation to Boston still held
good he would be glad to avail himself of the opportunity to renew their
friendship.

This announcement found Huntington in the introspective mood which had
alarmed Cosden, and suggested a comparison in which he placed himself
under the microscope for a mercilessly minute analysis. Hamlen was
convinced that he had made a failure of life, but what had he,
Huntington demanded of himself, accomplished which could entitle him to
claim success? He had not separated himself from his fellow-men, it was
true, he had been a decent citizen, performing such duties