t. You needn't think it does. You
make it worse by touching your hat. Four hours and seven minutes! You'll
see me again." The man answered nothing.

"Eh, but I'll hurt him," he chanted, as he swung into position. "That
was Flea. Eh, but he's forgotten my fists; eh, but I'll hurt him."

"Why?" ventured Rickie. Last night, over cigarettes, he had been bored
to death by the story of Flea. The boy had a little reminded him of
Gerald--the Gerald of history, not the Gerald of romance. He was more
genial, but there was the same brutality, the same peevish insistence on
the pound of flesh.

"Hurt him till he learns."

"Learns what?"

"Learns, of course," retorted Stephen. Neither of them was very civil.
They did not dislike each other, but they each wanted to be somewhere
else--exactly the situation that Mrs. Failing had expected.

"He behaved badly," said Rickie, "because he is poorer than we are, and
more ignorant. Less money has been spent on teaching him to behave."

"Well, I'll teach him for nothing."

"Perhaps his fists are stronger than yours!"

"They aren't. I looked."

After this conversation flagged. Rickie glanced back at Cadover,
and thought of the insipid day that lay before him. Generally he was
attracted by fresh people, and Stephen was almost fresh: they had been
to him symbols of the unknown, and all that they did was interesting.
But now he cared for the unknown no longer. He knew.

Mr. Wilbraham passed them in his dog-cart, and lifted his hat to his
employer's nephew. Stephen he ignored: he could not find him on the map.

"Good morning," said Rickie. "What a lovely morning!"

"I say," called the other, "another child dead!" Mr. Wilbraham, who had
seemed inclined to chat, whipped up his horse and left them.

"There goes an out and outer," said Stephen; and then, as if introducing
an entirely new subject--"Don't you think Flea Thompson treated me
disgracefully?"

"I suppose he did. But I'm scarcely the person to sympathize." The
allusion fell flat, and he had to explain it. "I should have done the
same myself,--promised to be away two hours, and stopped four."

"Stopped-oh--oh, I understand. You being in love, you mean?"

He smiled and nodded.

"Oh, I've no objection to Flea loving. He says he can't help it. But as
long as my fists are stronger, he's got to keep it in line."

"In line?"

"A man like that, when he's got a girl, thinks the rest can go to the
devil. He goes cutting his wor