"Why--yes--I think so."

"_Think_--don't you _know_?"

He gave a harsh short laugh.

"I know what you are driving at, of course. We care about each other.

If _that's_ wrong, that's all that is wrong."

"You take a weight off me," he said, and his tone was more friendly.

"You always maintained that love was its own justification, Schuyler?"

"And I've heard you maintain that it wasn't. Now we seem to have swapped beliefs."

He turned to his dressing-table and tied his tie. While so doing he muttered: "Pleasant vacation in sunny South."

And then was silent. I could not think of anything to say. Having finished dressing he thrust his hands into his trousers pockets and began to pace about the disordered room.

"Shall we go out in the sun?" I suggested.

"A dark cave would be more in keepin' with my feelings. Let's stop here a little and talk. What's the idea anyway?"

"Why, the usual idea, I suppose."

"John to give Lucy a divorce, you and Lucy to marry shortly after, and Jock and Hurry to go to h.e.l.l! I think less than nothing of the usual idea. To begin with, why should John give Lucy a divorce? She's the one that's done all the harm. I _know_ I'm her brother. It only helps me to see her character clearer than other people do. Well, say he isn't the fool I think he is. Say he _won't_ give her a divorce? What then?"

"Hadn't we better cross that bridge when we come to it?"

"In the usual way, I suppose. No. I'm too old-fashioned to like usual ways of doing things. Furthermore, I like you and Lucy too much. I don't want to see her life ruined, and John after all is a manufacturer of ammunition. How about crossin' the bridge and findin' him on the other side with a big bang-stick in his hand?"

I shrugged my shoulders, though at heart I was not indifferent to the picture which Schuyler had conjured up.

"Oh," said he, "what a d.a.m.ned mess! Come, we'll talk to Lucy."

I went with him most unwillingly. And I thought it good fortune that we did not find her alone, but with Evelyn, Dawson and the children.

Schuyler kissed his sister good morning with warm, brotherly affection and gave her a playful pat or two on the back.

"All we need," he said cheerfully, "is old John, and a girl apiece for Archie and me, to be a happy family party."

He made goat's eyes at Evelyn and Dawson. The latter blushed. But the former returned his glance with a fine and mischievous indifference.

"Now, people," Schuyler continued, "I'm on my vacation. I've plenty of energy, and I'm open to suggestion. You, Evelyn, do you want to ride with me or with Dawson?"

"I want to ride with you, but I'm going to play golf with Dawson."

"When?"

"We were just lingering to say good morning."

She rose a little languidly, and I perceived with misgivings that she and Dawson were really about to depart.

"Well," said Schuyler, "any time you feel like shakin' Dawson, just put me wise, there's a good fellow!"

When Dawson and Evelyn had gone, Schuyler proceeded to get rid of the children. He gave them fifty cents apiece, and said that if he didn't see them or hear them for half an hour they could keep the money.

"Are you trying to get this room all to yourself?" asked Lucy. "Do you want Archie and me to vanish, too?"

"No," said Schuyler; "much as you and Archie may wish to, I want nothing of the kind. Lucy, I think you'd better telegraph John to come home, don't you?"

"I've told Schuyler, Lucy," I said.

"And that's a good thing," said Schuyler; "because I don't have to take sides. I like you all. You and Archie _have_ to take your side, and John has to take his, naturally."

Lucy, her hands folded in her lap, looked bored and annoyed.

"A lot of talk isn't going to help any," she said.

"For certain reasons, Lucy," said Schuyler, "you and Archie are just now as blind as two bats. You don't see what you are doing, and you don't see what you are up against."

"I've only one life," said Lucy, "and it's my own."

"But it isn't," said Schuyler; "you gave it to John. I'd be mightily hurt and shocked to find out that you were an Indian giver."

"John will give my life back to me when he knows."

"Well, find out if he will or not. Send for him. Tell him what's happened."

"I think that would be best, Lucy," I said.

"Then, of course, I'll send," she said. "But----"

"John, you know," said Schuyler, "may not take you two very seriously.

He may think that Lucy's feelings for you, Archie, are just a pa.s.sing whim. Upon the grounds of his own experience with Lucy, he would be within his rights to feel that way. Why not," his face brightened into a sort of cheerfulness, "why not test yourselves a little? You go north, Archie, and wait around, and then, after a while, if you and Lucy feel the same, it will be time enough to tell John. It's all been too sudden for you to feel sure of yourselves. It isn't as if neither of you had ever been in love before and gotten over it. As a matter of cold fact, you've both been tried before now and found wanting. So I think you ought to go slow--for John's sake. He's the fellow that's been tried and that hasn't been found wanting."

It was obvious that Lucy did not like her brother's suggestion at all, for she rose suddenly, her hands clenched, and exclaimed:

"Oh, you don't understand at all. How can I go on living with a man I don't love? How can you ask me to be so false to myself and to Archie----"

"And to Jock and Hurry?" asked Schuyler gently.

She showed no emotion at the mention of these names.

"Don't they count for anything?" persisted Schuyler.

"Of course they count for something, so does poor John. Do you think it's any pleasure to have hurt him so? But is it my fault if they don't count _enough_?"

Here she came swiftly to my side, and slid her hand under my arm and clung to it. "They count," she said, "but they don't count enough."