"You've heard it before, then? At St. Asaph's, perhaps?"
"At St. Asaph's; yes."
"Well," said Brower, "the man you heard sing it at St. Asaph's was the man I heard sing it at Sioux Falls."
"Vibert!"
"Vibert."
George dropped his eyes; he had no wish to pursue the theme further. "What have you there?" he asked. He indicated the book that Brower had left lying on top of the trunk.
"Oh, nothing special. It's just one of those cheap novels. I was merely running it through to see if he really did marry the right one in the end. Might have done it in the first place as well as not." He passed the book to Ogden wrong side up. "I guess it's yours, by rights—one you left behind when you moved out." Ogden turned the book over and read the title. It was—"A False Start."
He started. He blushed. "Yes, perhaps it is," he stammered. He held it awkwardly in his hand for a moment. Brower watched him curiously, yet sympathetically. "Yes," Ogden repeated, in a bold, firm voice, "it is mine." He put it in his inside pocket and buttoned his coat.
"Oh, come," cried Brower, trying to throw a veil of jocularity over his earnestness, "that isn't fair! I've got to finish it. I've got to know whether he did or didn't. Anyway, let me see the end."
"There is no end," said Ogden, soberly. "Or if there is, it has come."