from the well-worn tie and the saw-
edged collar to the shiny sleeves of the coat and on to the slight fray
of one cuff, winding up and dwelling upon Martin's sunken cheeks. "On
the contrary, hack-work is above you, so far above you that you can never
hope to rise to it. Why, man, I could insult you by asking you to have
something to eat."

Martin felt the heat in his face of the involuntary blood, and Brissenden
laughed triumphantly.

"A full man is not insulted by such an invitation," he concluded.

"You are a devil," Martin cried irritably.

"Anyway, I didn't ask you."

"You didn't dare."

"Oh, I don't know about that. I invite you now."

Brissenden half rose from his chair as he spoke, as if with the intention
of departing to the restaurant forthwith.

Martin's fists were tight-clenched, and his blood was drumming in his
temples.

"Bosco! He eats 'em alive! Eats 'em alive!" Brissenden exclaimed,
imitating the spieler of a locally famous snake-eater.

"I could certainly eat you alive," Martin said, in turn running insolent
eyes over the other's disease-ravaged frame.

"Only I'm not worthy of it?"

"On the contrary," Martin considered, "because the incident is not
worthy." He broke into a laugh, hearty and wholesome. "I confess you
made a fool of me, Brissenden. That I am hungry and you are aware of it
are only ordinary phenomena, and there's no disgrace. You see, I laugh
at the conventional little moralities of the herd; then you drift by, say
a sharp, true word, and immediately I am the slave of the same little
moralities."

"You were insulted," Brissenden affirmed.

"I certainly was, a moment ago. The prejudice of early youth, you know.
I learned such things then, and they cheapen what I have since learned.
They are the skeletons in my particular closet."

"But you've got the door shut on them now?"

"I certainly have."

"Sure?"

"Sure."

"Then let's go and get something to eat."

"I'll go you," Martin answered, attempting to pay for the current Scotch
and soda with the last change from his two dollars and seeing the waiter
bullied by Brissenden into putting that change back on the table.

Martin pocketed it with a grimace, and felt for a moment the kindly
weight of Brissenden's hand upon his shoulder.

CHAPTER XXXII

Promptly, the next afternoon, Maria was excited by Martin's second
visitor. But she did not lose her head this time, for she seated
Brissenden in he