he sat so, looking at the other man; not rudely or
unpleasantly, but with the old, absent, analytical expression large upon
his face. At last he roused.

"I suppose," he began abruptly, "you're wondering what it is I wish to
speak with you about. I'll explain in advance that it's of your personal
affairs purely, nothing else. Would you prefer me not to intrude?"

For a moment Armstrong did not answer, but with an effort he looked at
the questioner directly.

"If it were a couple of days back," he said, "I should have answered
'yes' emphatically. Now--" his glance wandered out the window, resting on
the brick wall opposite, "now I hardly know. You've earned a sort of
right to wield the probe; and besides--"

"Never mind the right," shortly. "I tell you last night is forgotten. I
meant to see you and have the same talk anyway--with your permission."

Still Armstrong hesitated, looking steadily away. "You've condoned the
fact, then, that I've cut you dead on the street regularly?"

"I understood--and didn't blame you. There are dozens of people who know
Old Man Roberts and still never see him when passing face to face. It's
all in the game."

At last Armstrong's glance returned, almost with wonder. "And you don't
lay it up against them?"

"Sometimes. Usually, however, not. Life's too short to play with toys;
and enmities are toys--double-edged ones at that. You haven't answered my
question yet."

"I know; but just a moment more. Do you recall, by the way, a prophecy I
made once, years ago?"

"Yes; it never came true as far as I am concerned."

"Perhaps you never had cause to have it do so."

"Possibly."

"With me it did come about. I've hated you ever since--from the day you
left. Do you realize why I haven't answered your question?"

"Yes, why you haven't. I'm still waiting."

"I'm wondering," mused Armstrong, "why I don't hate you, now that we're
here together. I've thought a lot of bitter things about you, more than
about any one in the world. I don't know why I don't say them now that
I've got the chance."

"Yes, you have the chance. I'm listening."

"I know." Armstrong's long fingers were twitching nervously. Despite an
effort to prevent his lower lip trembled in sympathy. "And still, now
that for the first time I have the chance, I can't. I don't want to. I--"
Of a sudden an uncontrollable moisture came into his eyes, and he shifted
about abruptly until his face was hid. "Damn you, Darley Robert