painful explanation on the following morning, but nothing of the
sort happened. After all the greatest art is the art of ignoring
things, without which the world could scarcely go on, even among
the savage races. Thus on this occasion the two chief actors in
the scene of the previous night pretended that they had forgotten
what took place, as I believe, to a large extent truly. The
fierce flame of drink in the one and of passion in the other had
burnt the web of remembrance to ashes. They knew that something
unpleasant had occurred and its main outlines; the rest had
vanished away; perhaps because they knew also that they were not
responsible for what they said and did, and therefore that what
occurred had no right to a permanent niche in their memories. It
was, as it were, something outside of their normal selves. At
least so I conjectured, and their conduct seemed to give colour
to my guess.

The doctor spoke to me of the matter first.

"I fear there was a row last night," he said; "it has happened
here before over cards, and will no doubt happen again until
matters clear themselves up somehow. Marnham, as you see,
drinks, and when drunk is the biggest liar in the world, and I, I
am sorry to say, am cursed with a violent temper. Don't judge
either of us too harshly. If you were a doctor you would know
that all these things come to us with our blood, and we didn't
fashion our own clay, did we? Have some coffee, won't you?"

Subsequently when Rodd wasn't there, Marnham spoke also and with
that fine air of courtesy which was peculiar to him.

"I owe a deep apology," he said, "to yourself and Mr. Anscombe.
I do not recall much about it, but I know there was a scene last
night over those cursed cards. A weakness overtakes me
sometimes. I will say no more, except that you, who are also a
man who perhaps have felt weaknesses of one sort or another,
will, I hope, make allowances for me and pay no attention to
anything that I may have said or done in the presence of guests;
yes, that is what pains me--in the presence of guests."

Something in his distinguished manner caused me to reflect upon
every peccadillo that I had ever committed, setting it in its
very worst light.

"Quite so," I answered, "quite so. Pray do not mention the
matter any more, although--" These words seemed to jerk
themselves out of my throat, "you did call each other by such
very hard names."

"I daresay," he answered with a vacant