'I'm beginning again. I—I let go a little. Hump, I can't do it. It's too strong for me. I go to pieces. You don't know. I've got to fight—all the time. Do the things I used to do—make myself work hard, hard. Keep accounts. Every penny. Leave girls alone. It means grubbing.
I can't bear to think of it.' He spread out his hands. 'In some ways it seems to help to let go. You know—stirs me. Brings the Power. Makes me want to write, create things. But it's too much like burning the candle at both ends.'
Humphrey got out his old cob pipe, and carefully scraped it.
'That's probably just what it is,' he remarked.
'Oh, Hump, what is it makes us feel this way! You know—girls, and all that.'
Humphrey lighted his pipe.
'You don't know how it makes me feel to see you and Mildred. Just the way she looks. And you. Corinne and I don't look like that. We were flirting. I didn't mean it. She didn't, either. It's been beastly. But still it didn't seem beastly all the time.'
'It wasn't,' said Humphrey, between puffs. 'Don't be too hard on yourself. And you haven't hurt Corinne. She likes you. But just the same, she's only flirting. She'd never give up her ambitions for you.'
'There's something I want to feel. Something wonderful. I've been thinking of it, looking at that star. I want to love like—like that. Or nothing.'
Humphrey leaned on the railing over the beach, and smoked reflectively. The rose tints were deepening into scarlet and gold. The star was fading.