may fail to grasp what his friend is after.

And pushing the cigarette-box toward Rosek, he turned away his head. It
would be money he had come about, or--that girl! That girl--he wished
she was dead! Soft, clinging creature! A baby! God! What a fool he had
been--ah, what a fool! Such absurdity! Unheard of! First Gyp--then her!
He had tried to shake the girl off. As well try to shake off a burr!
How she clung! He had been patient--oh, yes--patient and kind, but how
go on when one was tired--tired of her--and wanting only Gyp, only his
own wife? That was a funny thing! And now, when, for an hour or two, he
had shaken free of worry, had been feeling happy--yes, happy--this fellow
must come, and stand there with his face of a sphinx! And he said
pettishly:

"Well, Paul! sit down. What troubles have you brought?"

Rosek lit a cigarette but did not sit down. He struck even Fiorsen by
his unsmiling pallor.

"You had better look out for Mr. Wagge, Gustav; he came to me yesterday.
He has no music in his soul."

Fiorsen sat up.

"Satan take Mr. Wagge! What can he do?"

"I am not a lawyer, but I imagine he can be unpleasant--the girl is
young."

Fiorsen glared at him, and said:

"Why did you throw me that cursed girl?"

Rosek answered, a little too steadily:

"I did not, my friend."

"What! You did. What was your game? You never do anything without a
game. You know you did. Come; what was your game?"

"You like pleasure, I believe."

Fiorsen said violently:

"Look here: I have done with your friendship--you are no friend to me. I
have never really known you, and I should not wish to. It is finished.
Leave me in peace."

Rosek smiled.

"My dear, that is all very well, but friendships are not finished like
that. Moreover, you owe me a thousand pounds."

"Well, I will pay it." Rosek's eyebrows mounted. "I will. Gyp will
lend it to me."

"Oh! Is Gyp so fond of you as that? I thought she only loved her
music-lessons."

Crouching forward with his knees drawn up, Fiorsen hissed out:

"Don't talk of Gyp! Get out of this! I will pay you your thousand
pounds."

Rosek, still smiling, answered:

"Gustav, don't be a fool! With a violin to your shoulder, you are a man.
Without--you are a child. Lie quiet, my friend, and think of Mr. Wagge.
But you had better come and talk it over with me. Good-bye for the
moment. Calm yourself." And, flipping the ash off his cigarette on to
th