"Unless you have changed. But your panacea?"
"Love."
"That's a generic term."
"Just plain human love, love for a woman like this one who was here. I wish you knew her. She 'd be good for you; she 'd give your present self-centred life a broader meaning."
Donaldson turned away.
"Barstow," he replied uneasily, "you 're good,—good clear through, but we move in different worlds. It is n't in me to love as you mean. I 'm too critical, which is to say too selfish."
"I think you are selfish, Peter," Barstow agreed frankly, "but I don't think it's your nature. You 've got into the Slough of Despond, and the only thing that will drag you out of that is love, love of something outside yourself. Try it."
Donaldson shook his head.
"You 're as good as gold," he declared, "but the things which content you and me are not the same. Good night."
"Good night. Be sure to drop in again when I get back."