t him so marked a success. I would have to tell her
what I did, and that, crude and unschooled as I was, she would have to
see that he was afraid of me, afraid of my future and my talent. Oh,
Dearborn!" he cried, throwing up his arms.

Dearborn left his chair and went to Fairfax and put his hand on his
shoulder.

"That's right," he said heartily, "blurt it all out, old man. Some day,
when the right time comes, you will let it out to him."

Fairfax leaned on Dearborn's arm. "There were eight of us at dinner
to-night," he said, "and Cedersholm was the general topic. He is much
admired. He is to have the Legion of Honour. Much of what they said
about him was just, of course, perfectly just and fair, but it sickened
me. They were enthusiastic about his character, his generosity to his
pupils, his sympathy with struggling artists, and one man, who had been
at the unveiling of the Sphinx, spoke of my Beasts."

Dearborn felt Antony's hand trembling on his arm.

"The gall rose up in my throat, Bob. I saw myself working in a sacred
frenzy in his studio, sweating blood, and my joy over my creations. I
saw myself eager, hopeful, ardent, devoted, with a happy, cheerful
belief in everybody. I had it then, I did indeed. Then I saw my ruined
life, my wasted years as an engineer in Albany, my miserable, my cruel
marriage, the things I stooped to and the degradation I might have
known. My mother, whom I never saw again, called me--my wife, my child,
passed before me like ghosts. If I could have had a little encouragement
from him then, only just my due, well.... I was thinking of all those
things whilst they spoke of him, and then I looked over to her...." As
he spoke Mrs. Faversham's name, Antony's voice softened. "... And she
was looking at me so strangely, strangely, as though she felt something,
knew something, and my silence seemed ungracious and proof of my
jealousy; but I could not have said a warm word in praise of him to save
my character in her eyes. When we were alone after dinner she asked me,
in a voice different to any tone I have heard from her, 'Don't you like
Mr. Cedersholm? You don't seem to admire him. I have never heard you
speak his name, or say a friendly word about him,' and I couldn't answer
her properly, and she seemed troubled."

Fairfax stopped speaking. The two friends stood mutely side by side.
Then Antony said more naturally--

"You see a little of how I feel, Bob."

And the other replied, "Yes, I