d the satisfaction of seeing despair melt the
set mockery of Spurlock's mouth.

"You begin to have doubts, eh? A handful of money between you, and
nothing else. There are only a few jobs over here for a man of your
type; and even these are more or less hopeless if you haven't
trained mechanical ability." Then he became merciful. "But
McClintock agrees to take you both--because he's as big a fool as I
am. But I give you this warning, and let it sink in. You will be
under the eye of the best friend I have; and if you do not treat
that child for what she is--an innocent angel--I promise to hunt
you across the wide world and kill you with bare hands."

Spurlock's glance shot up, flaming again. "And on my part, I shall
not lift a hand to defend myself."

"I wish I could have foreseen."

"That is to say, you wish you had let me die?"

"That was the thought."

This frankness rather subdued Spurlock. His shoulders relaxed and
his gaze wavered. "Perhaps that would have been best."

"But what, in God's name, possessed you? You have already wrecked
your own life and now you've wrecked hers. She doesn't love you;
she hasn't the least idea what it means beyond what she has read in
novels. The world isn't real yet; she hasn't comparisons by which
to govern her acts. I am a physician first, which gives the man in
me a secondary part. You have just passed through rather a severe
physical struggle; just as previously to your collapse you had gone
through some terrific mental strain. Your mind is still subtly
sick. The man in me would like to break every bone in your body,
but the physician understands that you don't actually realize what
you have done. But in a little while you will awake; and if there
is a spark of manhood in you, you will be horrified at this day's
work."

Spurlock closed his eyes. Expiation. He felt the first sting of the
whip. But there was no feeling of remorse; there was only the
sensation of exaltation.

"If you two loved each other," went on the doctor, "there would be
something to stand on--a reason why for this madness. I can fairly
understand Ruth; but you...!"

"Have you ever been so lonely that the soul of you cried in
anguish? Twenty-four hours a day to think in, alone?... Perhaps I
did not want to go mad from loneliness. I will tell you this much,
because you have been kind. It is true that I do not love Ruth; but
I swear to you, before the God of my fathers, that she shall never
know it!"