ourselves blue asserting that the way
is broad, and that every blessed man Jack of us will find it. Yes," he
went on more slowly, "we have no use now for a God who can deny to any
one a cheap suburban residence in the New Jerusalem. And so," he added,
"I flatter you, stupidly, and--and you forgive me."

They walked on together for a moment in silence.

"I don't deserve your forgiveness," he said. "But I desire your
forgiveness. I desire your toleration as far as it will go. Perhaps, if
you were to let me talk on, I might go too far for your toleration," and
now he turned and looked at her.

"You would not go too far," said May. "You are too much detached; you
look on----" and here she hesitated.

"Oh, damn!" said Bingham, softly; "that is the accursed truth," and he
stared before him at the cracks in the pavement as they stood out
sharply in the moonlight.

"You mustn't mind," said May, soothingly.

"I do mind," said Bingham; "I should like to be able to take my own
emotions seriously. I should like to feel the importance of my being
highly strung, imaginative, a lover of beauty and susceptible to the
charms of women. Instead of which I am hopelessly critical of myself. I
see myself a blinking fool, among other fools." Bingham's lips went on
moving as if he were continuing to speak to himself.

"When a woman takes you and your emotions seriously, what happens then?"
asked May very softly, and she looked at him with wide open eyes and her
eyebrows full of inquiry.

"Ah!" sighed Bingham, "that was long ago. I have forgotten--or nearly."
Then he added, after a moment's silence: "May I talk to you about the
present?"

"Yes, do," said May.

"There!" said Bingham, resentfully, "see how you trust me! You know that
if I begin to step on forbidden ground, you have only to put out your
finger and say 'Stop!' and I shall retire amiably, with a jest."

"That is part of--of your--your charm," said May, hesitatingly.

"My charm!" repeated Bingham, in a tone of sarcasm.

"I'm sorry I used the word charm," said May. "I will use a better term,
your personality. You are so alarming and yet so gentle."

Bingham turned and gazed at her silently. They were now very near the
Lodgings.

"Thanks," he said at last. "I know where I am. But I knew it before."

A great silence came upon them. Sounds passed them as they walked; men
hurried past them, occasionally a woman, a Red Cross nurse in uniform.
The sky above was still gr