to us all sometime in our
lives. They knock at our door and wait for us to open. Sometimes, not
often, they knock twice; but they don't keep on knocking forever. There
are a multitude of other doors in the world and, after a while,
opportunity, our opportunity, goes by, and never returns; no matter how
loudly we call. Is that clear enough, man?"

"In the abstract, yes." Armstrong's lips were dry and he moistened them
unconsciously. "In the concrete, though, as it applies to
my--happiness--"

"God, you're an egotist, Armstrong! Is it possible you can't understand,
or won't?"

Slowly, with an effort, Armstrong arose; his face of a sudden gray, his
hands fastened to the back of his chair.

"You mean to suggest that Elice," he began, "that Elice--You dare to
suggest that to me?"

"Dare?"

They looked at each other, not three feet apart.

"Dare?" Roberts repeated.

"Darley!"

"Don't! I've argued, advised, used persuasion--everything. Take that as a
warning if you wish, or disregard it if you choose. I'm done."

On the chair back the fingers locked tighter and tighter, until they grew
white. Tardy comprehension was coming at last.

"You mean to warn me," Armstrong scarcely recognized his own voice, "that
you yourself--"

"Yes, I myself. That's why I warned you."

"You yourself," he repeated, "whom I introduced and took with me as my
friend, my best friend--you--Judas!"

"Re-introduced." Roberts' eyes were as steady as his voice.
"Re-introduced--mark that. Miss Gleason has forgotten, but she was the
first girl I met in the University, when I had one suit of frayed clothes
to my name, and my stock was below par. Miss Gleason has forgotten, I
say, had no reason to remember; but I--Nor--Judas; drop that for all
time.... I've warned you, you understand."

"Darley!"

"No--Roberts. I'm no hypocrite. You've precipitated this understanding,
compelled it; but perhaps it's as well. I'll move out of here to-morrow
instead of in a month, if you wish. Do you wish it?"

Bit by bit the hands on the chair back, that had been so tense,
loosened, and Armstrong sank back in his seat, his face turned away.

"I don't know--yet." His fingers were twitching aimlessly. "I want to
think.... You, of all men, you!" He turned, his eyes ablaze, his voice
thick. "Yes, go to-morrow, damn you! and as for your warning, do as you
please, get between us if you can." He laughed raspingly. "I'll
delay--dangle, you catch that--as long as