oked. "Young people--Well, _adios_,
old man!" He opened the door and walked blindly forth.

CHAPTER XXX

Calvin Gray did not return to the bank. He went straight to his hotel
and, as soon as he could sufficiently control himself to do so, he
telephoned Gus Briskow, telling him that he intended to leave town.
Then he began mechanically to pack his bag. He moved like a man in a
trance, for the blow had fallen so suddenly as to numb him; his only
impulse was to escape, to hide himself from these people who, of a
sudden, had become hateful. His city of dreams had collapsed. The
ruins, as they lay, meant nothing as yet, for his mind refused to
envisage them and he could see them only as they had stood. He groped
amid a hopeless confusion of thought--at one moment bewildered,
piteously hurt, at the next suffering a sense of shameful betrayal. He
had grown old and dull and feeble, too, and for the time being he was
incapable of feeling the full force of a strong man's resentment. This
surprised him vaguely.

Soon, however, like kindling fires among the ruins, his fury rose--fury
at himself, at Buddy, at Barbara--and in the heat of those scorching
flames he writhed. She _had_ loved him. He'd swear to that. He had
swayed her, overpowered her; he had lacked only the courage to trust
his instinct. Coward's luck! It served him right. He had held her in
his arms and had let her slip through; her lips had been raised to his,
and he had refused to press them. Imbecile!

He groaned; he tore the collar and the tie from his neck, for they were
choking him. Old, eh? Too old! That was the grimmest jest of all, for
at the mere thought of Barbara's lips unruly forces took possession of
him; he experienced a fierce, resistless vigor such as he had never
felt in his younger days. It was a dreadful, an unappeasable yearning
of soul and body, and when the paroxysm had passed, it left him weak.
He sank into a chair and lay there stupid, inert, until again those
fires began to lick at him and again he twisted in dumb agony. Buddy
Briskow! Buddy, of all people! That lout; that awkward simpleton, who
owed him everything! But Buddy was _young_!

Gray heard himself laughing in hoarse derision. He rose and tramped
heavily around his room, and, as he went, he crushed and ripped and
mutilated whatever his hands encountered. His slow, deliberate,
murderous rage demanded some such outlet. All the while he felt within
himself two conflicting impul