of life from his eyes.

John Grier almost burst upon his wife. He opened and shut the door
noisily; he stamped into the dusky room.

"Isn't it time for a light?" he said with a quizzical nod towards her.

The short visit of Carnac had straightened her back. "I like the
twilight. I don't light up until it's dark, but if you wish--"

"You like the twilight; you don't light up until it's dark, but if I
wish--ah, that's it! Have your own way.... I'm the breadwinner; I'm the
breadwinner; I'm the fighter; I'm the man that makes the machine go;
but I don't like the twilight, and I don't like to wait until it's dark
before I light up. So there it is!"

She said nothing at once, but struck a match, and lit the gas.

"It's easy to give you what you want," she answered after a little. "I'm
used to it now."

There was something animal-like in the thrust forward of his neck, in
the anger that mounted to his eyes. When she had drawn down the blinds,
he said to her: "Who's been here?"

For an instant she hesitated. Then she said: "Carnac's been here, but
that has naught to do with what I said. I've lived with you for over
thirty years, and I haven't spoken my mind often, but I'm speaking it
now."

"Never too late to mend, eh!" he gruffly interposed. "So Carnac's been
here! Putting up his independent clack, eh? He leaves his old father
to struggle as best he may, and doesn't care a damn. That's your son
Carnac."

How she longed to say to him, "That's not your son Carnac!" but she
could not. A greyness crossed over her face.

"Is Carnac staying here?"

She shook her head in negation.

"Well, now I'll tell you about Carnac," he said viciously. "I'm shutting
him out of the business of my life. You understand?"

"You mean--" She paused.

"He's taken his course, let him stick to it. I'm taking my course, and
I'll stick to it."

She came close and reached out a faltering hand. "John, don't do what
you'll be sorry for."

"I never have."

"When Fabian was born, you remember what you said? You said: 'Life's
worth living now.'"

"Yes, but what did I say when Carnac was born?"

"I didn't hear, John," she answered, her face turning white.

"Well, I said naught."

CHAPTER XII. CARNAC SAYS GOOD-BYE

Fabian Grier's house was in a fashionable quarter of a fashionable
street, the smallest of all built there; but it was happily placed,
rather apart from others, at the very end of the distinguished
promenade. Behind