t it would have
been more pleasant to him had she shown less astonishment at the course
he had taken. "But it isn't final?" she cried.

"As far as I am concerned, it is. It is not at all unlikely that the
vestry will find it final too." More than ever Imrie resented the
presence of Good. He wanted to explain to Judith the part she had played
in his resolution. That made him tell the story of his interview with
Judge Wolcott very perfunctorily, and dismiss the subject as quickly as
he could.

But Good was not easily put off, although Judith seemed to sense the
purpose in his reticence. "What will you do if you resign?" he asked
bluntly.

"Not 'if,'" said Imrie coldly, "I have already resigned."

Good ignored the snub. "What'll you do next?" he persisted.

"I have no idea," said Imrie, turning away. A moment later he rose to
leave.

Good eyed him quizzically as they shook hands, and smiled, half
wistfully, half amusedly. "You don't understand me, Mr. Imrie," he said
with characteristic candour; "you don't think I understand. I'm older
than you. I have been through things. Some day--perhaps--oh, well, we'll
wait for the day, won't we?"

Imrie was puzzled. He was vaguely grateful, too, though he could find no
words to express his gratitude. He stared perplexedly at Good, who had
picked up a magazine and appeared deeply engrossed. Then he shrugged his
shoulders helplessly and turned to go.

"Some time," he said to Judith, who had followed him to the door, "I
should like to see you and tell you all about it." He looked at her
longingly as he spoke. He seemed very tired, she thought.

"I understand," said Judith. He wondered if she really did.

A cold rain had been falling steadily all evening. The street lamps
flickered dismally through the mist and the trees dripped soddenly. It
was a fitting end, he thought, to the dreariest day he had ever known.
The morning had seen the ruin of his flowering career, cut down by his
own ruthless hand, under no compulsion save that of his own senseless
conscience. And the evening, as a bitter crown to the day, had seen the
salt of jealousy ground into his wounds. The contrast between himself
standing on the brink of indecision, wandering aimlessly from disgust to
humiliation, without satisfaction in the past or hope for the future;
and that other man--who had no indecision, whose hopes were half
realised--made his heart heavy within him.

It was a saddened and chaotic Imrie wh