e was an odd gentleness about him.
Women said that he was marvellously improved. Among such as had known him
in New York he became a favourite, little as he attempted to court
favour.

Towards the end of the year he went down to the Midlands to stay with his
friend Perry Clinton. They had not met for several years, and Clinton,
who had married in the interval, also thought him changed.

"Is it prosperity or adversity that has made you so tame, dear fellow?"
he asked him, as they sat together over dessert one night.

"Adversity," said Merefleet, smiling faintly. "I'm getting old, Perry;
and there's no one to take care of me. And I find that money is vanity."

Clinton understood.

"Better go round the world," he said. "That's the best cure for that."

But Merefleet shook his head.

"It's my own fault," he said presently. "I've chucked away my life to the
gold-demon. And now there is nothing left to me. You were wise in your
generation. You may thank your stars, Perry, that when I wanted you to
join me, you had the sense to refuse. When I heard you were married
I called you a fool. But--I know better now."

He paused. He had been speaking with a force that was almost passionate.
When he continued his tone had changed.

"That is why you find me a trifle less surly than I used to be," he said.
"I used to hate my fellow-creatures. And now I would give all my money in
exchange for a few disinterested friends. I'm sick of my lonely life. But
for all that, I shall live and die alone."

"You make too much of it," said Clinton.

"Perhaps. But you can't expect a man who has been into Paradise to be
exactly happy when he is thrust outside."

Clinton took up the evening paper without comment. Merefleet had never
before spoken so openly to him. He realised that the man's loneliness
must oppress him heavily indeed thus to master his reserve.

"What news?" said Merefleet, after a pause.

"Nothing," said Clinton. "Plague on the Continent. Railway mishap on the
Great Northern. Another American Disaster."

"What's that?" said Merefleet with a touch of interest.

"Electric car accident. Ralph Warrender among the victims."

"Warrender! What! Is he dead?"

"Yes. Killed instantaneously. Did you know him?"

"I have met him in business. I wasn't intimate with him."

"Isn't he the man whose first wife was killed in a railway accident?"
said Clinton reflectively, glad to have diverted Merefleet's thoughts. "I
thought so. I