s found a backer for his experiments."

"That's good," said Norman.

"You can spare me for ten days," Tetlow went on. "I'd be of no use if I
stayed."

There was a depth of misery in his kind gray eyes that moved Norman to
get up and lay a friendly hand on his shoulder. "It's the best thing,
old man. She wasn't for you."

Tetlow dropped into a chair and sobbed. "It has killed me," he groaned.
"I don't mean I'll commit suicide or die. I mean I'm dead inside--dead."

"Oh, come, Billy--where's your good sense?"

"I know what I'm talking about," said he. "Norman, God help the man who
meets the woman he really wants--God help him if she doesn't want him.
You don't understand. You'll never have the experience. Any woman you
wanted would be sure to want you."

Norman, his hand still on Tetlow's shoulder, was staring ahead with a
terrible expression upon his strong features.

"If she could see the inside of me--the part that's the real me--I think
she would love me--or learn to love me. But she can only see the
outside--this homely face and body of mine. It's horrible, Fred--to have
a mind and a heart fit for love and for being loved, and an outside that
repels it. And how many of us poor devils of that sort there are--men
and women both!"

Norman was at the window now, his back to the room, to his friend. After
a while Tetlow rose and made a feeble effort to straighten himself. "Is
it all right about the vacation?" he asked.

"Certainly," said Norman, without turning.

"Thank you, Fred. You're a good friend."

"I'll see you before you go," said Norman, still facing the window.
"You'll come back all right."

Tetlow did not answer. When Norman turned he was alone.

IX

In no way was Norman's luck superior to most men's more splendidly than
in that his inborn tendency to arrogant and extravagant desires was
matched by an inborn capacity to get the necessary money. His luxurious
tastes were certainly not moderated by his associations--enormously rich
people who, while they could be stingy enough in some respects, at the
same time could and did fling away fortunes in gratifying selfish
whims--for silly showy houses, for retinues of wasteful servants, for
gewgaws that accentuated the homeliness of their homely women and
coarsened and vulgarized their pretty women--or perhaps for a night's
gambling or entertaining, or for the forced smiles and contemptuous
caresses of some belle of the other world. Norman fo