was no
attempt at procrastination.

"Yes, Elice," he said, and looked her fair.

"Yes? Think. This is final."

"Yes."

An instant the look held; the brown eyes dropped.

"I repeat, then, you are released, free." She sat very still. "Is there
anything else you wish to say?"

"Perhaps. I don't know.... You mean, if I have I'm to say it now. I can't
come again.... You're not going to forgive me?"

"Forgive? Certainly, if there is anything to forgive. I had no thought
otherwise."

"I'm not to come again, though. You mean that?"

"I fail to see the object.... To use an expression of your own, it's
desecration to disturb the corpse."

"Even if--"

"Let's not argue about nothing. I'm not cursed with nerves ordinarily,
but there are times--" She arose slowly, stood there beside her chair,
gracefully slender, gracefully imperious. "You've chosen deliberately,
you know."

"Yes, I know." Armstrong too had arisen in his dismissal, involuntarily
obedient. "But you said, before I told you, before you understood, that
afterward, perhaps--You remember you said that?"

"Yes; I remember. Things are changed now, though. What I had in mind
you've answered yourself.... One thing I would like to ask, however, one
thing that I hope you will answer truly, no matter whether it hurts me or
not. It's this: Was I to blame in any way whatever, by word or act or
suggestion, for your losing your place in the University? Will you answer
me that--and truly?"

From the chair where he had thrown it down Armstrong took up the long
ulster and buttoned it mechanically to his throat.

"No, Elice," he repeated; "you're not at fault in any way, by word or act
or suggestion. There's no one at fault except myself."

"Thank you. I would always have feared, if I hadn't asked, that somehow
unintentionally--" She was silent.

Armstrong hesitated, waiting until there was no longer hope.

"You have nothing else you wish to say, then?" he asked at last.

"Nothing; unless it is this, that you know already: I shall always
believe in you, Steve, always."

"Believe in me!" The shade of the old ironic smile did duty. "You think I
shall still become wealthy and famous?"

"Perhaps not," swiftly. "I never demanded either qualification of you.
Why should I lie now? Both are right and desirable in their place,
provided they come normally; but their place is second, not first. You
know what I mean. I believe that you will always be clean and fair and