"What does a man want with heaven when he's been living in hell?" asked Leicester.
"As you will, Leicester," said his companion; "but take my advice. Don't expect—too much, and make up your mind to have a good time, whatever may happen."
Leicester laughed, and it was the laugh of a madman.
"Do you believe in the devil, Winfield?" he said.
"I don't see that the devil has anything to do with it," replied the other. "We are young, we have life before us, and——"
But Leicester did not listen to him further. He struck his spurs into his horse's sides, and the animal tore off at a mad gallop. Winfield's horse started to follow, but the young man held him back. "Let him go," he said to himself, "he's better without me. I've made a mistake evidently, and, great heavens! I don't like to think of what will happen."
Winfield watched the other, who galloped wildly across the broad open space, and then waited while he rode the mad passion out of himself.
When Leicester returned, half an hour later, there was a quieter look in his eyes, his face looked more natural.
"I thought you'd gone, Winfield," he said; "let's get back to town. What a wedding-day I'm having, eh?"
Both their horses were black with sweat when they returned them to the job-master from whom they had borrowed them, but Leicester did not wait to listen to the man's remarks. He hurried back to the club, and went straight to the office.