'Why so?'
'Because you are acting contrary to your interests. You are unfit for Glory, you do not now, you never will, understand her.'
'What do you mean?'
'You let the girl row away, offended, angry, eating out her heart, and you show no sign that you desire reconciliation.'
'I have though. I waved my hat to her, but she took no notice.'
'Waved your hat!' repeated Rebow, with suppressed scorn. 'You never will read that girl's heart, and understand her moods. Oh, you fool! you fool! straining your arms after the unapproachable, unattainable, star! If she were mine——' he stamped and clenched his fists.
'But she is not going to be yours, Elijah,' said George with a careless laugh.
'No, of course not,' said Elijah, joining in the laugh. 'She is yours till death you do part.'
'Tell me, what have I done wrong?' asked De Witt.
'There—you come to me, after all, to interpret the writing for you. It is there, written in letters of fire, Mene, mene, tekel, Upharsin! Thou art weighed in the balance and found wanting, and this night shall thy kingdom be taken from thee and given to——'