t. But I can and do. I have seen cases of the kind before.
Will you permit me to advise you?"

"Advise me? I wish to God you would."

"Littre, who was the wisest and ugliest of men, stated that
Hippocrates recommended everybody to get tight once a month, asserting
that it was hygienic, good for the system, that it relaxed the nerves.
Littre must have known what he was talking about. He put Hippocrates
in French, into ten volumes at that! But what is good for everybody is
bad for you. Don't drink, Annandale. It will get you into mischief."

"As if it had not? Look at the box I am in. But could you not get
Sylvia to reconsider the matter? If she will, I pledge my word never
to touch another drop. Of course, I apologize for everything I did. I
am only too anxious to. You must understand that I am profoundly
humiliated at the idea that I could have done anything she did not
like. Certainly I did not intend to. Won't you say that to her?"

"Oh, I appreciate your position," said Orr. "To me the essence of
crime is the intent. But, then, you see, I am a man. Now girls are
different, and my cousin is very different even from most girls. Her
views are very strict. Even otherwise, to any decent girl, a man in
his cups is not agreeable. But then, you know, it is not merely a
question of that. It is a question of matrimony. Matrimony generally
means children. It is on them that the sins of the father are visited.
There is the rub. Sylvia, I have not a doubt, will in the end forgive
you, but were she to marry you and her children have your sins visited
on them, never would she forgive herself. That I am sure you can
realize. Anyway, for the moment argument with her would be futile.
Besides, she has gone from town."

"Gone?"

"Yes, she left for Newport today. If I were you I would not attempt
to follow. But I will write. I will tell her what you say, and I will
tell you her reply."

Orr stood up. As he did so Annandale sat down. He cared for Sylvia
Waldron, absolutely, uniquely. He felt, too, that she had cared for
him. But while Orr had been speaking he told himself that her caring
had ceased. Had any affection remained she could not have gone. It was
his fault, though. He had shocked it out of existence. At the thought
of that he felt unutterably miserable. What he felt he looked.

Orr saw his dejection. "Annandale," he said, "I hardly suppose that it
will console you now to have me tell you that nothing earthly is of
any