“Perhaps your opinions and your conduct are wrecking some other life, in like manner. There is not one of us who does not exert a powerful influence on those about us, one way or the other, to build up and strengthen, or to wreck and destroy.”
As there was no reply, Houston said: “I am very glad you have given me this sketch of your life, Morgan, I shall always feel differently toward you, remembering this.”
“Yes,” said Morgan, rising, “I wanted you to know, and I thought this was as good a time as I would have. You will remember it, whatever happens,” he added ambiguously, as he started slowly down the road, in an opposite direction from the house.
“Which way are you going?” asked Houston, also rising.
“Down to the Y.”
“What! are you going that distance as late as this?”
“Yes,” replied Morgan, “I don’t go all the way by the road; there’s a cut across that makes it a good deal shorter, and I’ll have plenty of time.”
They both stood a few moments watching a tall, dark figure that had been pacing up and down the road all the time they had been talking, sometimes approaching quite near, then retreating out of sight. They both recognized it as Jack.
“He’s a queer duck,” muttered Morgan, “wonder what he’s doing, this is rather late for a constitutional;” then added, “I wish I had some of the money that chap’s got.”
“Why, has he money?” inquired Houston.