He halted a pace from where Cleland was sitting:
"I told her to go back to her studio and think it over. She went out.... I did not think of her coming back here.... I was standing in front of that cracked mirror over there.... To get a sure line on my temple.... That's what shattered the glass—when she struck my arm up....
"Well, a man goes to pieces sometimes.... She made me promise to wait two years—said she would try to care for me enough in that time to live with me.... The child was frightened sick. The terror of my ever doing such a—a fool thing remains latent in her brain. I know it. I know it's there. I know, Cleland, that she is in love with you. And that she dare not ask me for her freedom for fear that I shall do some such silly thing."
He began to laugh, quite naturally, without any bitterness at all:
"I tried to make you understand. I told you that I would do anything for you. But you didn't comprehend.... Yet, I meant it. I mean it now. She belongs to you, Cleland. I want you to take her. I wish her to understand that I give her the freedom she's entitled to. That she need not be afraid to take it—need not fear that I might make an ass of myself."
He laughed again, quite gaily:
"No, indeed, I mean to live. I tell you, Cleland, there is no excitement on earth like beating Fate at her own game. There's only one thing——"
After a pause, Cleland looked up into the man's wistful, golden eyes.
"What is it, Grismer?"
"If I could win—your friendship——"