all up," said Dan hoarsely.

"No danger of a relapse?"

"What do you mean?"

"No danger of having my sympathy handed over later to Miss Pasmer for
examination?"

"I guess you can speak up freely, Boardman," said Dan, "if that's what
you mean. Miss Pasmer and I are quits."

"Well, then, I'm glad of it. She wasn't the one for you. She isn't fit
for you."

"What's the reason she isn't?" cried Dan. "She's the most beautiful and
noble girl in the world, and the most conscientious, and the best--if
she is unjust to me."

"No doubt of that. I'm not attacking her, and I'm not defending you."

"What are you doing then?"

"Simply saying that I don't believe you two would ever understand each
other. You haven't got the same point of view, and you couldn't make it
go. Both out of a scrape."

"I don't know what you mean by a scrape," said Dan, resenting the word
more than the idea. Boardman tacitly refused to modify or withdraw it,
and Dan said, after a sulky silence, in which he began to dramatise a
meeting with his family: "I'm going home; I can't stand it here. What's
the reason you can't come with me, Boardman?"

"Do you mean to your rooms?"

"No; to the Falls."

"Thanks. Guess not."

"Why not?"

"Don't care about being a fifth wheel."

"Oh, pshaw, now, Boardman! Look here, you must go. I want you to go.
I--I want your support. That's it. I'm all broken up, and I couldn't
stand that three hours' pull alone. They'll be glad to see you--all of
them. Don't you suppose they'll be glad to see you? They're always glad;
and they'll understand."

"I don't believe you want me to go yourself. You just think you do."

"No. I really do want you, Boardman. I want to talk it over with you. I
do want you. I'm not fooling."

"Don't think I could get away." Yet he seemed to be pleased with the
notion of the Falls; it made him smile.

"Well, see," said Mavering disconsolately. "I'm going round to my rooms
now, and I'll be there till two o'clock; train's at 2.30." He went
towards the door, where he faced about. "And you don't think it would be
of any use?"

"Any use--what?"

"Trying to--to--to make it up."

"How should I know?"

"No, no; of course you couldn't," said Dan, miserably downcast. All the
resentment which Alice's injustice had roused in him had died out;
he was suffering as helplessly and hopelessly as a child. "Well," he
sighed, as he swung out of the door.

Boardman found him seated at his writing-