knows," said Kent. "We have had so many lightning transformations in
politics in the State that nothing is impossible."

"I'd like to know," was Loring's comment. "It might make some difference
to me, personally."

"To you?" said Kent, inquiringly. "That reminds me: I haven't given you a
chance to say ten words about yourself."

"The chance hasn't been lacking. But my business out here is--well, it
isn't exactly a Star Chamber matter, but I'm under promise in a way not to
talk about it until I have had a conference with our people at the
capital. I'll write you about it in a few days."

They were ascending the steps at the end of the passenger platform again,
and Loring broke away from the political and personal entanglement to give
Kent one more opportunity to hear his word of negative comfort.

"We dug up the field of recollection pretty thoroughly in our after-dinner
seance in your rooms, David, but I noticed there was one corner of it you
left undisturbed. Was there any good reason?"

Kent made no show of misunderstanding.

"There was the excellent reason which must have been apparent to you
before you had been an hour in Gaston. I've made my shot, and missed."

Loring entered the breach with his shield held well to the fore. He was
the last man in the world to assault a friend's confidence recklessly.

"I thought a good while ago, and I still think, that you are making a
mountain out of a mole-hill, David. Elinor Brentwood is a true woman in
every inch of her. She is as much above caring for false notions of caste
as you ought to be."

"I know her nobility: which is all the more reason why I shouldn't take
advantage of it. We may scoff at the social inequalities as much as we
please, but we can't laugh them out of court. As between a young woman who
is an heiress in her own right, and a briefless lawyer, there are
differences which a decent man is bound to efface. And I haven't been
able."

"Does Miss Brentwood know?"

"She knows nothing at all. I was unwilling to entangle her, even with a
confidence."

"The more fool you," said Loring, bluntly. "You call yourself a lawyer,
and you have not yet learned one of the first principles of common
justice, which is that a woman has some rights which even a besotted lover
is bound to respect. You made love to her that summer at Croydon; you
needn't deny it. And at the end of things you walk off to make your
fortune without committing yourself; without knowing