"You have heard. I thought so." Armstrong fumbled with his cuffs, played for time, which meant for self-control. "I'm glad. It saves my--explaining."

"Yes, I've heard." Randall's tongue lagged unwillingly. "I couldn't help it; but believed, in the least, before--no. I thought he was your friend."

"Was, yes. Now--It's been some time since we came to an understanding; and he told me, warned me. I don't blame him--or her. I've had my chance, ample chance, G.o.d knows.... It's simply true."

Randall looked up unbelievingly.

"And you don't hate him, you who were his friend?"

"Hate?... I don't know, don't know anything these days except that I'm down--down; down in the mire, deep!" It was the end, the last crumb of confidence, and Armstrong leaped to his feet. "But what's the use of dissecting any more, what possible use?" His hat was in his hand and he was heading for the door. "It's all simply maddening, and I'm a fool, a visionary fool, who can't change myself or alter events; powerless--" He halted, turned half about. Instinctive courtesy sprang to his lips.

"Pardon me, Harry, for bothering you with all this when you can do nothing. I had no idea when I came of staying so long or--or of making a spectacle of myself." He smiled, almost his old smile. "Forgive me this time and I promise never to do it again, never." He turned once more to the door. "Don't get up, old man. I can find my way out. Good-night."

"Steve! Wait!" Randall too was on his feet, a sudden premonition of things to come in his mind, a feeling, more than of pity, for the intention he read clear in the other's face. "Don't go yet--don't go at all. Stay with me to-night, please."

"Stay!" Armstrong too understood, and, understanding, smiled; a smile the other man never forgot. "Stay--to-night?... No, thank you. I appreciate your motive," hurriedly, "don't fancy it's not that; but--" no questioning that preventing gesture, no combating it--"but to-night I'm going to forget.... Yes, and to-morrow night, and the next--and the next!"

CHAPTER VIII

CATASTROPHE

Three evenings in succession a tall young man with an ulster turned up high above his chin and a derby hat lowered well over his eyes circled the block of which the Gleason lot and cottage was a part. The first time, in front of the house itself, he had merely halted, hands deep in his pockets, obviously uncertain; then, as though under strain of an immediate engagement beyond, had hastened on. The second time he had pa.s.sed up the walk, half way to the door; had of a sudden changed his mind, and disappeared rapidly as before. The third evening, the present, however, there had been no uncertainty, no hesitation. Instead, he had walked straight to the knocker, and, a gray-haired man in lounging-jacket and carpet slippers answering his ring, had come to anchor in the familiar den. From his moorings in the single comfortable chair the place afforded, which had been compellingly pressed upon him, he was listening to the other's explanation.

"I think she'll return soon, though, very soon." Mr. Gleason adjusted his horn-rimmed eyegla.s.ses and peered near-sightedly at his big open-faced silver watch. "She said she'd be back early and it's nearly nine now."

"Something going on, something important, I mean?"

"No; I don't think so. Just out for a little air, and dropped in on one of the girls maybe. She's got three freshmen she's coaching now, and with that out-of-town cla.s.s and the house here--" The long bony fingers tapped absently tip to tip. "It's the only time that she has and I encourage, insist almost, that she go."

"Yes."

The tapping fingers went still.

"I think sometimes I'm a bit guilty that she at her age--that it should seem to be necessary, I mean--Maybe I imagine it, but it seems to me as though Elice was sort of f.a.gged and different this winter."

The visitor unb.u.t.toned his coat leisurely.

"I hadn't noticed it," he refuted.

"No? I'm glad to hear you say it. You'd have noticed, I guess, if any one. Probably it's all my imagination."

"Elice herself hasn't said anything, intimated anything?"

"Not a word or a hint. Certainly not." Something akin to surprise spoke in the quick reply. "She even wanted to take on another out-of-town cla.s.s, but I vetoed that. She's as her mother was, Elice: always planning on doing just a little more."

"Than she ought, you think?"

"Yes."

Without apparent excuse, unconsciously, the visitor reb.u.t.toned his double-breasted coat.

"Some people," he commented, "work--more than they ought to, to forget; and others again do--various things."

"What? I beg your pardon."

"To forget, to attain callousness, to cease to feel. There are many formulas tried, many."

"I fear I fail to understand."

"Doubtless. I don't understand myself. I was simply rambling. Pardon me."

Over the horn nose-gla.s.ses Mr. Gleason scrutinized the face of the younger man intently.

"Certainly. For what, though, I admit I'm mystified." He glanced away perfunctorily. "Everything is running normally, I suppose, in your department?"

"Yes, about as usual, I guess, practically so."

"Better than usual according to Dean Sanford," cheerfully. "He's inclined to brag a little this year, justifiedly, too, one must admit from the attendance."

"Yes, the attendance is excellent--among the students. Among the faculty--did the dean seem inclined to brag any on the faculty?"

"No; he only talked a few moments." Mr. Gleason produced the big timepiece again hastily. "Nine o'clock. I wonder what can be keeping Elice," he fidgeted.

The visitor smiled, an odd smile, neither of bitterness nor yet of amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Not inclined particularly to brag on his faculty, the dean, I gather?"

returned Armstrong.

The older man straightened. Out of kindness he would retreat so far; but if pursued--

"No, he barely mentioned the faculty, as I remember."

"Not even the professor of chemistry?"

The horn-rimmed gla.s.ses had left their owner's nose and, as they had a way of doing when the old man was abstracted, swung like a pendulum from his fingers.

"Not even the professor of chemistry?" repeated Armstrong.

Very quietly the older man held his ground, very steadily.

"Just what is it you wish to know, Steve?" he asked directly. "You gathered, of course, it was a board meeting I referred to--and confidential naturally. I think I need say no more."

"No, no more, certainly. I was merely curious to know if you knew. You've satisfied my curiosity, I believe."

"Satisfied! I'm afraid you're taking a bit for granted. I repeat, if you'll tell me explicitly what you wish--"