“I think they’d come.”
The doctor smoked for a time in silence, then he said, “Decide on something hard to do, and do it. Do it if you feel you are going to die in the attempt.”
There was something inspiring to Evans in the idea. Hard things. That was it. He poured out the story of the past few days. The awful scene with Rusty. To-night in the fog under the pines. “Wanted more than anything to drop myself in the river.”
He was walking the floor, back and forth, limping to one edge of the rug, then limping to the other. “Then Jane came. Little Jane Barnes. You know her, and she told me—where to get off—said I was—captain of my soul——” He stopped in front of the doctor, and smiled whimsically. “Are any of us captains of our souls, doctor?”
“I’ll be darned if I know.” The doctor was intensely serious. “Will power has a lot to do with things. The trouble is when your will won’t work——”
“Mine seems to be working on one cylinder.” Again Evans was pacing the rug. “But that idea of an office appeals to me. It will take a bit of money, though. And it is rather a problem to know where to get it.”
“Sell some of the old books. I’ll buy them.”
Light leaped into Evans’ eyes. “It would be one way, wouldn’t it? Mother would rather hate it. But what’s a library against a life?” He seemed to fling the question to a listening universe.
The doctor laughed. “She’ll be sensible if you put it up to her. And you must frivol a bit. Play around with the girls.”
“I don’t want any girls except Jane.”