species, needs curbing.

The question of who should bear the blame did not enter into Dic's
perturbed cogitations. He took it all upon his own broad shoulders, and
did not seek to hide his sin under the cloak of that poor extenuation,
"she did tempt me." If Rita's love should turn to hatred (he thought it
would), he would marry Sukey and bear his burden through life; but if
Rita's love could withstand this shock, Sukey's troubles would go
unrighted by him. Those were the only conclusions he could reach. His
keen remorse was the result of his sin; and while he pitied Sukey, he
did not trust her.

Next morning Dic saw Miss Tousy and took the stage for home. His first
visit was to Billy Little, whom he found distributing letters back of
the post-office boxes.

"How is Rita?" asked Billy.

"She's much better," returned Dic. "Miss Tousy tells me the fever has
left her, and the doctors say she will soon recover. I wanted to see her
before I left, but of course that could not be; and--and the truth is I
could not have looked her in the face."

"Why?" Billy was busy throwing letters.

"Because--because, Billy Little, I am at last convinced that I represent
the most perfect combination of knave and fool that ever threw heaven
away and walked open-eyed into hell."

"Oh, I don't know," replied the postmaster, continuing to toss letters
into their respective boxes. "I ... don't know. The world has seen some
rare (Mrs. Sarah Cummins) combinations of that sort." After a long pause
he continued: "I ... I don't believe (Peter Davidson) I don't
believe ... there is much knave in you. Fool, perhaps (Atkinson, David. He
doesn't live here), in plenty--." Another pause, while three or four
letters were distributed. "Suppose you say that the formula--the
chemical formula--of your composition would stand (Peter Smith) F_{9}
K_{2}. Of course, at times, you are all M, which stands for man, but
(Jane Anderson, Jane Anderson. Jo John's wife, I suppose)--"

"You will not jest, Billy Little, when you have heard all."

"I am not ... jesting now. Go back ... into my apartments. I'll lock the
door (Samuel Richardson. Great writer) and come back to you (Leander
Cross. Couldn't read a signboard. What use writing letters to him?) when
I have handed (Mrs. Margarita Bays. They don't know she has moved to
Indianapolis, damn her)--when I have handed out the mail."

Dic went back to the bedroom, and Billy opened the delivery window. The
little cr