“Shall I throw it up?” I asked suddenly. I wanted the thing settled.
“Oh, go on with it, by all means go on with it,” Lea answered.
“And ...?” I postulated.
“Take your chance of the rest,” he supplied; “you’ve had a pretty bad time.”
“I suppose,” I reflected, “if I haven’t got the strength of mind to get out of it in time, I’m not up to much.”
“There’s that, too,” he commented, “the game may not be worth the candle.” I was silent. “You must take your chance when you get it,” he added.
He had resumed his reading, but he looked up again when I gave way, as I did after a moment’s thought.
“Of course,” he said, “it will probably be all right. You do your best. It’s a good thing ... might even do you good.”
In that way the thing went through. As I was leaving the room, the idea occurred to me, “By the way, you don’t know anything of a clique: the Dimensionists—Fourth Dimensionists?”
“Never heard of them,” he negatived. “What’s their specialty?”