"Then I guess that's all there is to it," repeated Granning solemnly.
Marsh swore a fearful oath and went out.
"I want to talk to him a moment," said Bojo, turning to Granning with a nod. Granning went into the bedroom, while Bojo drew nearer to DeLancy. "Fred, let's talk this over quietly."
"Oh, I know what you're going to fling at me," said Fred miserably. "Gladys and all that. I know I'm a beast, I've no excuse. But, Bojo, I'm half wild! I don't know what I'm doing—honest I don't!"
"Is it as bad as all that, old fellow?" said Bojo, shaking his head.
"It's awful—awful." He sat down, burying his head in his hands.
"Fred, answer me—do you yourself want to do this?"
"How do I know what I want!" he said breathlessly. He raised his head, staring in front. "I suppose it will end me with the crowd. I suppose that's true. Bojo, I know everything that it will do to me—everything. I know it's suicide. But, Bojo, that doesn't do any good. Reasoning doesn't do any good—what's got to be has got to be! Now I've told you. You'll see it's no use."
"I hope it will work out better than we think," said Bojo, solemnly. "And Gladys?"
"I wrote to her."