“Yes, or both,” said Dan, boldly accepting the suggestion. “It wouldn't have cost me a pang to give up if I'd been in the place of either.” “I guess that's what she could never understand,” Boardman mused aloud. “And I could never understand how any one could fail to see that that was what I intended--expected: that it would all come out right of itself--naturally.” Dan was still addressing Alice in this belated reasoning. “But to be accused of bad faith--of trying to deceive any one--” “Pretty rough,” said Boardman. “Rough? It's more than I can stand!” “Well, you don't seem to be asked to stand it,” said Boardman, and Mavering laughed forlornly with him at his joke, and then walked away and looked out of Boardman's dormer-window on the roofs below, with their dirty, smoke-stained February snow. He pulled out his handkerchief, and wiped his face with it. When he turned round, Boardman looked keenly at him, and asked, with an air of caution, “And so it's all up?” “Yes, it's all up,” said Dan hoarsely. “No danger of a relapse?” “What do you mean?” “No danger of having my sympathy handed over later to Miss Pasmer for examination?” “I guess you can speak up freely, Boardman,” said Dan, “if that's what you mean. Miss Pasmer and I are quits.” “Well, then, I'm glad of it. She wasn't the one for you. She isn't fit for you.” “What's the reason she isn't?” cried Dan. “She's the most beautiful and noble girl in the world, and the most conscientious, and the best--if she is unjust to me.” “No doubt of that. I'm not attacking her, and I'm not defending you.” “What are you doing then?” “Simply saying that I don't believe you two would ever understand each other. You haven't got the same point of view, and you couldn't make it go. Both out of a scrape.” “I don't know what you mean by a scrape,” said Dan, resenting the word more than the idea. Boardman tacitly refused to modify or withdraw it, and Dan said, after a sulky silence, in which he began to dramatise a meeting with his family: “I'm going home; I can't stand it here. What's the reason you can't come with me, Boardman?” “Do you mean to your rooms?” “No; to the Falls.” “Thanks. Guess not.” “Why not?” “Don't care about being a fifth wheel.” “Oh, pshaw, now, Boardman! Look here, you must go. I want you to go. I--I want your support. That's it. I'm all broken up, and I couldn't stand that three hours' pull alone. They'll be glad to see you--all of them. Don't you suppose they'll be glad to see you? They're always glad; and they'll understand.” “I don't believe you want me to go yourself. You just think you do.” “No. I really do want you, Boardman. I want to talk it over with you. I do want you. I'm not fooling.” “Don't think I could get away.” Yet he seemed to be pleased with the notion of the Falls; it made him smile.