"No, Cleland. But somebody else will—somebody else will get me—very soon, now.... Good-bye."
A few days later Cleland prowled with Harry Belter, intent upon supper somewhere in the outer marches of the town.
For an episode had occurred that shook them both with the most sobering and distressing jar that youth experiences in fullest mental and physical vigour.
"I don't see how a man can kill himself," said Cleland. "I don't see why he can't go somewhere else and cure himself of his unhappiness. Travel, change, new faces——"
"Perhaps he wants to be rid of faces," muttered Belter.
"There are wonderful wildernesses."
"Perhaps he's too tired to admire 'em. Perhaps he's half dead for sleep."
"You talk as though you sympathized and understood, Harry."
"I do."
"You! The indefatigable optimist! You, the ever-welcome, the gay consoler, the irrepressible spirit among us!"