such a rush I think I forgot.

P.P.S. Tell Gladys that Fred came out all right--shouldn't
be surprised if he'd made a little too.

CHAPTER XVIII

BOJO FACES THE TRUTH

The next days he spent aimlessly. He had a great decision to make, and
he acted as though he had not a thought in the world but to drift
indolently through life. He idled through breakfast, reading the morning
papers laboriously, and was amazed to find that with all his delay it
was only eleven o'clock, with an interminable interval to be filled in
before lunch. He began a dozen novels, seeking to lose himself in the
spell of other lands and other times; but as soon as he sallied out to
his club he had the feeling that the world had been turned inside out.

After luncheon he tried vainly to inveigle some acquaintance into an
afternoon's loafing, only to receive again that impression of strange
loneliness in a foreign land, as one after the other disappeared before
the call of work. He had nothing to do except the one thing which in the
end he knew had to be done, and the more he sought to put it from him,
idling in moving-picture halls or consuming long stretches of pavement
in exploring tramps, the more he felt something always back of his
shoulder, not to be denied.

He avoided the company of his chums, seeking other acquaintances with
whom to dine and take in a show. Something had fallen into the midst of
the old intimacy of Westover Court. There was a feeling of unease and
impending disruption. The passion for gain had passed among them at last
and the trail of disillusionment it had left could not be effaced. The
boyish delight, the frolicking with life had passed. They seemed to have
aged and sobered in a night. The morning breakfasts were constrained,
hurried affairs. There was not the old give-and-take spirit of horse
play. DeLancy was moody and evasive, Marsh silent, and Granning grim.
Bojo could not meet DeLancy's eyes, and with the others he felt that
though they would never express it, he had disappointed them, that in
some way they held him responsible for the changes which had come and
the loss of that complete and free spirit of comradeship which would
never return.

He had reached the point where he had decided on a full confession to
Drake and a certain restitution. But here he met the rock of his
indecision. What should he restore? After deducting the sums paid to
DeLancy and to the estate of Forshay, he had