e may both put up a bluff--but
just the same it's the end."

Roberts halted thoughtfully where he stood.

"The end? I wonder--and who will be to blame?"

"Neither of us," swiftly. "It was inevitable. We'll simply drift apart.
You recall I prophesied once before--"

"Yes, I recall."

Armstrong started involuntarily. Another memory had intruded.

"You remember--something else I predicted, do you?"

A slow smile formed on Roberts' lips.

"You said that sometime we'd hate each other, in the same measure that we
were friends now."

"Yes; and it's so. I feel it; why I don't know, can't imagine--yet. But
it will come about as surely as to-morrow will come." He looked at his
companion steadily, unsmilingly prophetic. "Good-bye, friend Darley
Roberts. You're going--and you won't return. Good-bye."

An instant Roberts stood as he was, motionless; then he turned swiftly.

"You're morbid to-night, Armstrong," he returned slowly. "In the morning
the sun will shine and the world will look very different. As for my
leaving--you'll find another man who'll make a lot better mate than I am.
I'm not a good fellow in the least."

"I know it," bluntly. "That's why you're good for me." Unconsciously his
glance travelled to the mantel, and shifted hurriedly. "I'm a kind of
clinging vine, I guess. To change the figure of speech, I need a stiff
rudder to keep me headed straight to windward. I'll--miss you," simply.

Roberts hesitated a moment, choosing his words carefully.

"We can't very well always be together, though," he suggested at last
slowly.

"No, we can't. I realize it. It's--Pardon an ass and go to bed, old
man."

For perhaps half a minute Roberts stood there, the fire from the open
grate lighting his face, his big capable hands loose at his sides. He
made no motion to leave, nor for a space to speak; characteristically
abrupt, he turned, facing his companion directly.

"Armstrong," he said, "I can't work up to things delicately and have them
seemingly happen by chance. Nature didn't endow me with that ability. I
have to come out with a broadside shot or not at all. I'm going to do so
now. Why don't you get married? Miss Gleason will be a better rudder
immeasurably than I am."

Involuntarily Armstrong flushed, slowly the color faded. He said
nothing.

"I know I'm intruding and offending," went on the other; "you show that,
but you said a bit ago I was your friend and the thing is on my mind.
Believe this at l