fectionate and in a way dependent. All her letters since he had left
had been most tender, speaking of his sorrow at this necessary absence
and hoping that the time would soon come when they could be together.
The fact that he was lonely finally decided her and she wrote that she
was coming whether he wanted her to or not.

Her arrival would have made little difference except that by now he was
thoroughly weaned away from her again, had obtained a new ideal and was
interested only to see and be with Carlotta. The latter's easy financial
state, her nice clothes, her familiarity with comfortable and luxurious
things--better things than Eugene had ever dreamed of enjoying--her use
of the automobile, her freedom in the matter of expenditures--taking the
purchase of champagne and expensive meals as a matter of course--dazzled
and fascinated him. It was rather an astonishing thing, he thought, to
have so fine a woman fall in love with him. Besides, her tolerance, her
indifference to petty conventions, her knowledge of life and literature
and art--set her in marked contrast to Angela, and in all ways she
seemed rare and forceful to him. He wished from his heart that he could
be free and could have her.

Into this peculiar situation Angela precipitated herself one bright
Saturday afternoon in September. She was dying to see Eugene again. Full
of grave thoughts for his future, she had come to share it whatever it
might be. Her one idea was that he was sick and depressed and lonely.
None of his letters had been cheerful or optimistic, for of course he
did not dare to confess the pleasure he was having in Carlotta's
company. In order to keep her away he had to pretend that lack of funds
made it inadmissible for her to be here. The fact that he was spending,
and by the time she arrived had spent, nearly the whole of the three
hundred dollars his picture sold to Carlotta had brought him, had
troubled him--not unduly, of course, or he would not have done it. He
had qualms of conscience, severe ones, but they passed with the presence
of Carlotta or the reading of his letters from Angela.

"I don't know what's the matter with me," he said to himself from time
to time. "I guess I'm no good." He thought it was a blessing that the
world could not see him as he was.

One of the particular weaknesses of Eugene's which should be set forth
here and which will help to illuminate the bases of his conduct was that
he was troubled with a dual