“Grigg, one thing! You must let me speak of it.... Has the possibility occurred to you of marrying again?”
Doane sprang up at this; walked the floor,
“Do you realize what you're saying, Henry!” he cried out.
“I understand, Grigg, but you and I are old enough to know that in the case of a vigorous man like yourself—”
Doane threw out a hand.
“Henry, I've thought of everything!”
A little later he stopped and stood over his friend.
“I have fought battles that may as well be forgotten,” he said deliberately. “I have won them, over and over, to no end whatever. I have assumed that these victories would lead in time to a sort of peace, even to resignation. They have not. Each little victory now seems to leave me further back. I'm losing, not gaining, through the years. It was when I finally nerved myself to face that fact that I found myself facing it all—my whole life.... Henry, I'm full of a fire and energy that no longer finds an outlet in my work. I want to turn to new fields. If I don't, before it's too late, I may find myself on the rocks.”
Withery thought this over. Doane was still pacing the floor. Withery, pale himself now, looked up.
“Perhaps, then,” he said, “you had better break with it.”