asy-chair, where he had dropped
it.

"What do you mean, Doctor?"

"Mean? Isn't my meaning plain enough? I mean you're too independent.
You know very well, Richling, that you've started out in life with some
fanciful feud against the 'world.' What it is I don't know, but I'm sure
it's not the sort that religion requires. You've told this world--you
remember you said it to me once--that if it will go one road you'll
go another. You've forgotten that, mean and stupid and bad as your
fellow-creatures are, they're your brothers and sisters, and that
they have claims on you as such, and that you have claims on them as
such.--Cozumel! You're there now! Has a friend no rights? I don't know
your immediate relatives, and I say nothing about them"--

John gave a slight start, and Mary looked at him suddenly.

"But here am I," continued the speaker. "Is it just to me for you to
hide away here in want that forces you and your wife--I beg your pardon,
madam--into mortifying occupations, when one word to me--a trivial
obligation, not worthy to be called an obligation, contracted with
me--would remove that necessity, and tide you over the emergency of the
hour?"

Richling was already answering, not by words only, but by his confident
smile:--

"Yes, sir; yes, it is just: ask Mary."

"Yes, Doctor," interposed the wife. "We went over"--

"We went over it together," said John. "We weighed it well. It _is_
just,--not to ask aid as long as there's hope without it."

The Doctor responded with the quiet air of one who is sure of his
position:--

"Yes, I see. But, of course--I know without asking--you left the
question of health out of your reckoning. Now, Richling, put the whole
world, if you choose, in a selfish attitude"--

"No, no," said Richling and his wife. "Ah, no!" But the Doctor
persisted.

"--a purely selfish attitude. Wouldn't it, nevertheless, rather help a
well man or woman than a sick one? Wouldn't it pay better?"

"Yes, but"--

"Yes," said the Doctor. "But you're taking the most desperate risks
against health and life." He leaned forward in his chair, jerked in his
legs, and threw out his long white hands. "You're committing slow
suicide."

"Doctor," began Mary; but her husband had the floor.

"Doctor," he said, "can you put yourself in our place? Wouldn't you
rather die than beg? _Wouldn't_ you?"

The Doctor rose to his feet as straight as a lance.

"It isn't what you'd rather, sir! You haven't your ch