ant to me.
I want to see Briggs happy; that's why I want to stay here, just to see
Briggs happy. I--I love Briggs. You understand me, don't you, Mr.
Guilford?"

The poet breathed a dulcet breath. "Perfectly," he murmured. "The
contemplation of Mr. Briggs' happiness eliminates all thoughts of self
within you. By this process of elimination you arrive at happiness
yourself. Ah, the thought is a very precious one, my young friend, for
by elimination only can we arrive at perfection. Thank you for the
thought; thank you. You have given me a very, very precious thought to
cherish."

"I--I have been here a week," muttered Wayne. "I thought--perhaps--my
welcome might be outworn----"

"In the house beautiful," murmured the poet, rising and waving his heavy
white hand at the open door, "welcome is eternal." He folded his arms
with difficulty, for he was stout, and one hand clutched the legal
papers; his head sank. In profound meditation he wandered away into the
shadowy house, leaving Wayne sitting on the veranda rail, eyes fixed on
a white shape dimly seen moving through the moonlit meadows below.
Briggs sauntered into sight presently, his arms full of flowers.

"Get me a jug of water, will you? Vanessa has been picking these and she
sent me back to fix 'em. Hurry, man! She is waiting for me in the
garden." Wayne gazed earnestly at his friend.

"So you have done it, have you, Stuyve?"

"Done what?" demanded Briggs, blushing.

"It."

"If you mean," he said with dignity, "that I've asked the sweetest girl
on earth to marry me, I have. And I'm the happiest man on the footstool,
too. Good Heaven, George," he broke out, "if you knew the meaning of
love! if you could for one second catch a glimpse of the beauty of her
soul! Why, man of sordid clay that I was--creature of club and claret
and turtle--like you----"

"Drop it!" said Wayne somberly.

"I can't help it, George. We were beasts--and _you_ are yet. But my base
clay is transmuted, spiritualized; my soul is awake, traveling, toiling
toward the upward heights where hers sits enthroned. When I think of
what I was, and what you still are----"

Wayne rose exasperated:

"Do you think your soul is doing the only upward hustling?" he said
hotly.

Briggs, clasping his flowers to his breast, gazed out over them at
Wayne.

"You don't mean----"

"Yes, I do," said Wayne. "I may be crazy, but I know something," with
which paradox he turned on his heel and walked into th