"

"Well, if you were to lend me your microscope, perhaps I might begin."

"I could not do that," he answered quickly. "I never lend my things."

"No, I did not suppose you would," she said. "I knew I was safe in
making the suggestion."

"You are rather quick of perception in spite of all your book reading,"
he said. "Yes, you are quite right. I am selfish. I dislike lending my
things, and I dislike spending my money except on myself. If you have
the misfortune to linger on as I do you will know that it is perfectly
legitimate to be selfish in small things, _if one has made the one
great sacrifice_."

"And what may that be?"

She asked so eagerly that he looked at her, and then saw how worn and
tired, her face was; and the words which he was intending to speak,
died on his lips.

"Look at those asses of people on toboggans," he said brusquely. "Could
you manage to enjoy yourself in that way? That might do you good."

"Yes," she said; "but it would not be any pleasure to me."

She stopped to watch the toboggans flying down the road. And the
Disagreeable Man went his own solitary way, a forlorn figure, with a
face almost expressionless, and a manner wholly impenetrable.

He had lived nearly seven years at Petershof, and, like many others was
obliged to continue staying there if he wished to continue staying in
this planet. It was not probable that he had any wish to prolong his
frail existence, but he did his duty to his mother by conserving his
life; and this feeble flame of duty and affection was the only lingering
bit of warmth in a heart frozen almost by ill health and disappointed
ambitions. The moralists tell us that suffering ennobles, and that a
right acceptation of hindrances goes towards forming a beautiful
character. But this result must largely depend on the original
character: certainly, in the case of Robert Allitsen, suffering had not
ennobled his mind, nor disappointment sweetened his disposition. His
title of "Disagreeable Man" had been fairly earned, and he hugged it to
himself with a triumphant secret satisfaction.

There were some people in Petershof who were inclined to believe certain
absurd rumours about his alleged kindness. It was said that on more than
one occasion he had nursed the suffering and the dying in sad Petershof,
and, with all the sorrowful tenderness worthy of a loving mother, had
helped them to take their leave of life. But these were only rumours,
and there was nothing