is nerves; but there's
sometimes a long way more helpfulness in a good thrashing than in all
the coddlings since the world began. And Brenton has had an infernal
amount of coddling lately; there's no denying that. It's not alone the
women; it is sensible men like Doctor Keltridge and my father, men who
ought to be filing his teeth, not softening them up with goodies.
However, that's as it is. What will be the end of it, do you think?"

"Smash; unless you hold him, Reed."

"Me? I?"

"Yes, you. I don't mean--I'm in earnest now; I hate to see a good man
chucking a good profession, and, unless he steadies down, he is bound
to chuck it--I don't mean any nonsense about your owing it to him. I
mean that you can hold him steady longer than anybody else."

"Not you?" Opdyke's accent was incredulous.

"My grip on him is gone. In the past, I may have helped him. All I
could say, this afternoon, only rubbed him the wrong way, and increased
the notion that he's cherishing, the notion that he's an uncomprehended
genius. In heaven's name, Reed," and Whittenden's fist came crashing
down on the arm of his chair; "is anything in this whole world more
hard to fight than that same pose of being misunderstood? Nine times
out of ten, it is mere pose. The tenth time, it is mere paranoia, and
hence more manageable. No. My hold on Brenton is all gone. As I say, he
has outgrown me; I still believe in my immortal soul, and a few such
other trifles that no laboratory can prove. To be sure, you believe
them, too; but, if you're going to manage Brenton, keep the beliefs
tucked out of sight."

"Where's my hold on him, then?" Reed queried.

Whittenden, bending forward, laid his hand across the rug.

"This," he said quietly; and, strange to say, the words brought no
sting to Reed Opdyke's mind.

Nevertheless, he objected to the fact.

"It seems so much like gallery play, Whittenden," he urged. "It's a bit
nasty to be making capital out of a thing like that."

Whittenden shook his head, as, settling back again, he flung his hand
up into the old resting place.

"Not if it's given you for just that purpose," he answered then. "No,
Reed, hear me out. It never has been your way to dodge responsibilities;
in the end, you're sure to buck up against this one, so you may as well
take it now as ever. This thing appears to be your present asset.
Properly managed, it can bring you no end of influence. Your friends,
who really know you, will watch yo