The words seemed to Walter like a challenge. For a second or two their eyes met. He was the first to look away. He could not meet the younger man's directness. "Walter," Isadore said, "you're my best friend. Be good to her." He hesitated a moment, irresolute, then turned abruptly and went away. Walter stood still in the middle of the room--dazed by the intensity of Isadore's emotions, realizing suddenly how many more of the priceless gifts of Youth there were in Isadore's hands than in his own. The shame which had flooded him at Yetta's first caress came back. Yetta, in her infatuation, could not see how little--even of love--he had to offer. She was too blinded to choose freely. "Yetta," he said, coming over and sitting on the other end of the window-seat from her, "why didn't you tell me about this?" "Why, Walter, I did tell you. I said he asked me to marry him--two years ago." "But I didn't realize that he loved you as much as this." "Walter," she said, taking fright at his tone, "I never gave him any encouragement. I never--" "It isn't that, Yetta," he interrupted her. "Oh! I don't mean that. But why didn't you marry him?" It was her turn to be dazed and bewildered. She stood up before him, but he had covered his face with his hands. "Why? How could I when I loved you?" "Loved me? Yetta, you hardly knew me." There was an earthquake in Dreamland. Just what was happening in his soul she did not know, but all things were a-tremble. "Walter? Walter? What do you mean?" He looked up at her with a haggard face. "Don't you understand?" he asked seriously. "I'm more than a dozen years older than you are, close to ten years older than Isadore. Years don't always mean much, but these last ones have been very long for me. "Youth counts for very much in this dreary world of ours. It means undimmed faith, it means courage, it means vibrancy and reserve power. Isadore has never been really defeated, Yetta, and I'm a mass of poorly healed wounds. The best of me is gone, some of it expended, more of it wasted. I come to you like a beggar, asking for all these precious things--faith, hope, incentive. My hands are empty. But Isadore could give you these things, when you need them--as you surely will some day, Yetta. If I'd been here all these years, you'd have seen the difference between us. "A long time ago, when you were very young, I seemed wonderful to you. I went away--stop and think a moment how very little you know of me--and you made a romance about me. Romance is a very dangerous thing. It's a sort of Lorelei song, Yetta. After all, our business is to push on down the River, not to stop and play with the fairies on the rocks. It's a real world we must live in, Yetta dear, not a dream, and the facts must be faced. Youth is worth more than anything else. Your kisses made me forget to think of you--Isadore reminded me." "What are you trying to do, Walter?" she asked. "Don't you want me to marry you?"