Part 26 (2/2)

”G.o.d knows,” said Randall at last. ”I've asked myself the same question for years--and couldn't answer it. It's as big as the universe. Steve is simply an atom. It's unanswerable.”

In the pause following Roberts lit one of the seemingly inexhaustible black cigars, after proffering its mate. Again the two sat there, the blue haze of mutual understanding gathering between them.

”I say it's unanswerable,” repeated Randall. ”It's the old problem of the young supporting the uselessly old, the well serving the incurably diseased. It means eternal vigilance from some one, eternal sacrifice.

It's insoluble, neither more nor less.”

”Yes,” said Roberts. ”I've found it so--insoluble. Particularly so in this case.”

Slowly Randall's glance lifted, met the other's eyes. That instant, as a flame is born, came full understanding between them.

”Yes, particularly so in this case,” echoed Roberts; ”for it means a woman's sacrifice, one particular woman's sacrifice. Nothing else in the world will do--nothing.”

It was the beginning of personal confidence, the halting-point for conversation between these two. Both knew it and neither crossed the line. They merely waited until a digression should come naturally.

Roberts it was who at last introduced it, and in a manner so matter of fact that the other was all but deceived.

”Has Armstrong been doing anything lately in a literary way--anything, I mean, that justifies your opinion?” he asked abruptly.

”No, not that I know of; absolutely nothing.”

”You're relying, then, on past impressions merely.”

”Yes; specifically the last novel he wrote,--the one of a year or a year and a half or so ago.”

”You haven't by any chance a copy of the ma.n.u.script, I suppose?”

”No.”

”You could doubtless get it, however?”

”I think so--unless some time he became morbid and burned it.”

”He hasn't done that; I know him. He might threaten; but to do it--he'd as probably go hungry. Get it some time, will you?”

”I will if you request. You don't wish it for yourself, do you?”

”No, not for myself. Perhaps not at all. I've not decided yet. Anyway get it, please, and be ready if I should ask.” He flashed a look no man had ever questioned, could question. ”You don't doubt my motive?”

”No. The ma.n.u.script will be ready. I'll answer for that.”

No further question of interest was asked, no additional hint of purpose proffered. The subject merely dropped, as in the beginning it had merely begun. In some ways they were similar, these two men in general so dissimilar.

”I had another object in calling to-night,” said Roberts, and again the announcement was made without preface. ”The opportunity to buy a house presented itself to-day and I accepted. Perhaps you know the place,--J.

C. Herbert's, on top of the hill.”

”Yes.” Open wonder spoke in the voice, open mystification. ”Yes, I know it.”

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