wouldn't have been in your father's life if it weren't for
you; if you had done what your father wished you to do, had--"

"Had sold myself for gold--my freedom, my health, everything to help my
father's business! I don't see why he should expect that what he's doing
some one else should do--"

"That Belloc would do, that Belloc and Fabian would do," said the girl.

"Yes, that's it--what they two would do. There's no genius in it, though
my father comes as near being a genius as any man alive. But there's a
screw loose somewhere.... It wasn't good enough for me. It didn't give
me a chance--in things that are of the mind, the spirit--my particular
gifts, whatever they are. They would have chafed against that life."

"In other words, you're a genius, which your father isn't," the girl
said almost sarcastically.

A disturbed look came into Carnac's eyes. "I'd have liked my father to
be a genius. Then we'd have hit it off together. I don't ever feel the
things he does are the things I want to do; or the things he says are
those I'd like to say. He's a strange man. He lives alone. He never
was really near Fabian or me. We were his sons, but though Fabian is a
little bit like him in appearance, I'm not, and never was. I always feel
that--" He paused, and she took up the tale:

"That he wasn't the father you'd have made for yourself, eh!"

"I suppose that's it. Conceit, ain't it? Perhaps the facts are, I'm one
of the most useless people that ever wore a coat. Perhaps the things I
do aren't going to live beyond me."

"It seems as though your father's business is going to live after him,
doesn't it?" the girl asked mockingly. "Where are you going now?" she
added.

"Well, I'm going to take you home," he said, as he turned and walked by
her side down the hill.

"Denzil will be glad to see you. He almost thinks I'm a curse."

Carnac smiled. "All genius is at once a blessing or a curse. And what
does Denzil think of me?"

"Oh--a blessing and a curse!" she said whimsically.

"I don't honestly think I'm a blessing to anybody in this world. There's
no one belonging to me who believes in me."

"There's Denzil," she said. "He believes in you."

"He doesn't belong to me; he isn't my family."

"Who are your family? Is it only those who are bone of your bone and
flesh of your flesh? Your family is much wider, because you're a genius.
It's worldwide--of all kinds. Denzil belongs to you, because you helped
to save him year