himself.

De Gollyer smiled--a bachelor smile.

"Riches, my boy," he said, tapping him on the shoulder with the same
quick, awakening Mephistophelean touch.

The contact raised Lightbody from revery. He drew back, shocked at the
ways through which his thoughts had wandered.

"No, no, Jim," he said. "No, you mustn't, nothing like that--not at such
a time."

"You're right," said De Gollyer, instantly masked in gravity. "You're
quite right. Still, we are looking things in the face--planning for the
future. Of course it's a delicate question, terrifically delicate. I'm
almost afraid to put it to you. Come, now, how shall I express
it--delicately? It's this way. Fifteen thousand a year divided by one is
fifteen thousand, isn't it; but fifteen thousand a year divided by two,
may mean--" He straightened up, heels clicking, throwing out his elbows
slightly and lifting his chin from the high, white stockade on which it
reposed. "Come, now, we're men of the world, aren't we? Now, as a matter
of fact how much of that fifteen thousand a year came back to you?"

"My dear Jim," said Lightbody, feeling that generosity should be his
part, "a woman, a modern woman, a New York woman, you just said
it--takes--takes--"

"Twelve thousand--thirteen thousand?"

"Oh, come! Nonsense," said Lightbody, growing quite angry. "Besides, I
don't--"

"Yes, yes, I know," said De Gollyer, interrupting him, now with fresh
confidence. "All the same your whiskies have gone off, dear boy--they've
gone off, and your cigars are bad, very bad. Little things, but they
show."

A pencil lay before him. Lightbody, without knowing what he did, took it
up and mechanically on an unwritten sheet jotted down $15,000, drawing
the dollar sign with a careful, almost caressing stroke. The sheet was
the back of his wife's letter, but he did not notice it.

De Gollyer, looking over his shoulder, exclaimed:

"Quite right. Fifteen thousand, divided by one."

"It will make a difference," said Lightbody slowly. Over his face passed
an expression such as comes but once in a lifetime; a look defying
analysis; a look that sweeps back over the past and challenges the
future and always retains the secret of its judgment.

De Gollyer, drawing back slowly, allowed him a moment before saying:

"And no alimony!"

"What?"

"Free and no alimony, my boy!"

"No alimony?" said Lightbody, surprised at this new reasoning.

"A woman who runs away gets no alimony," said De