o consider his own unhappiness
totally different and infinitely more acute than that of others; he had
even taken a sort of morbid, paradoxical pleasure in considering it so;
and now even this was taken from him. Not only had his own secret
skeleton been visible when he believed it concealed, but all around him
there suddenly sprang up a very cemetery of other skeletons, grinning at
his blindness and discomfiture. His was not a nature to extract content
from common discomfort, and but one palliative suggested itself,--the
dull red decanter on the sideboard. Rising again and filling a glass, he
returned and stood for a moment full before the open casement of the
window gazing down steadily.

How long he stood there he hardly knew. Once Alec's dark face peered
into the room, and disappeared as suddenly. At last there was a knock at
the door.

"Come in," invited Sidwell, without moving. The door opened and closed,
and Winston Hough stood inside. The big man gave one glance at the
surroundings, saw the empty glass, and backed away. "Pardon my
intrusion," he said with his hand on the knob.

Sidwell turned. "Intrusion--nothing!" He placed the decanter with
glasses and a box of cigars on a convenient table. "Come and have a
drink with me," and the liquor flowed until both glasses were nearly
full.

Hough hesitated in a reluctance that was not feigned. He felt that
discretion was the better part of valor, and that it would be well to
escape while he could, even at the price of discourtesy.

"Really," he said, "I only dropped in to say hello. I--"

"Nonsense!" interrupted Sidwell. "You must think I'm as innocent as a
new-born lamb. Come over here and sit down."

Hough hesitated, but yielded.

Sidwell lifted his glass. "Here's to--whatever the trouble may be that
brought you here. People don't visit me for pleasure, or unless they
have nowhere else to go. Drink deep!"

They drank; and then Sidwell looking at Hough said, "Well, what is it
this time? Going to reform again, or something of that kind, are you?"

Hough did not attempt evasion. He knew it would be useless. "No," he
said; "to tell you the truth, I'm lonesome--beastly lonesome."

Sidwell smiled. "Ah, I thought so. But why, pray? Aren't you a married
man with an ark of refuge always waiting?"

Hough made a grimace. "Yes, that's just the trouble. I'm too much
married, too thoroughly domesticated."

The other looked blank. "I fail to understand. Certainly yo