. Some days one
would do anything to satisfy the cravings of that same body you seem
to think we shouldn't pamper."

"If you give in you must do more another time," he added a little
solemnly.

"How you must despise us!" Her eyes flashed suddenly. "You live
coolly, tranquilly on for something at the end, never, never
forgetting to have balance."

"Nonsense, I am blue at times, and life is tame."

"And we stumble about with our senses, making a muddle of our earth."

"Here is the carriage already!" It was a relief to find an excuse to
break away.

"You will not come again, I fancy?" she asked, simply. An hour ago he
would have answered yes, meaning in his heart never. Now the unsolved
woman opposite prompted him to say: "If you want to see me again, if I
may?"

"Come down some, some week-day, when it is so quiet. We can have more
talk, and I promise you it will do you good to mix with the herd
occasionally."

She laughed lightly.

"The blood has run out," Thornton mused, as the cart rolled on through
the gentle night. "This fellow here is a flabby lump. She has
neuralgia and long stretches of apathy, and other ills. Her children
stand to lose, if she ever has any. She has kept the frame of the
splendid old stock, but in its house the nerves and tissues are
morbid and she is waiting," he paused, and then the words came,
"waiting for dissolution and endless rest."

"Have another cigar?" His companion interrupted his musing.

"The old man keeps a good lot. Whew, how he plays! I left the little
game; the family couldn't stand two in that. The old man will be
savage this week. He can't play against that Bradley. Bradley is a
regular sucker. I tipped the pater a pointer on that long ago, and got
well cursed for my pains. When the old man gets on a tear there's no
stopping him; no let up until he bucks his head against something
hard. Well," he lashed the horse into a gentle gallop, "he can't kick
at my batch of bills. When he gets on a high horse, I know how to fix
him." He laughed. Jarvis Thornton turned a curious eye on his
companion. Just this kind of intimacy in families he had never
experienced--an armed neutrality of viciousness. He was anxious to get
on, to reach his Camberton rooms, where the Sunday forlornness was
peace after this swinish atmosphere. Once back in his arm-chair, in
the familiar confusion of books and papers and letters lying about, he
wondered again what curious freak had led him to acc