“I suppose,” he said carelessly, “a fellow is able to diagnose the thing if he gets it.... Recognise it.... Don’t you?” “Probably.” “I suppose every fellow stands a chance of landing there sooner or later.” “You write about it. Don’t you know?” “Certainly.... I’m familiar with some phases of it.... The phenomena are well known.” “The various sorts of love and its aftermath that you write about are enough to scare any man off that stuff,” remarked Coltfoot. “Those are the sorts I’ve seen.... Or the cut and dried hypocrisy of my own kind and kindred.... I’ve seen darned few cases of satisfactory and enduring love.... Darned few, Mike.” “Then there are a few?” “Sure.” “Why not write about one such incident?” After a silence Annan lifted his eyes and gave him a haggard look. “I’m afraid of Christmas-card stuff, I guess.... Mike, I’ve always been afraid of it. I’ve had a morbid fear of weakness.... And do you know I believe _that_ was the real weakness? I _am_ weak!” “Barry, you’ve merely had things come to you too easily. You’ve had your own way too much. You’re persuasive; you get it. You’ve been, perhaps, a little self-complacent, a bit smug, a trifle cocksure.... All strength is in danger of such phases. But weakness never is. Weakness _must_ assert itself or silently acquiesce in its own visible inferiority. For the bragger is the weakling, not he who does not need to assert himself. “And always there lies a danger in the reticence of strength that, unawares, complacency and self-satisfaction may taint it, and strength go stale.” After a silence: “My stuff has been pretty narrow, I guess,” muttered Annan. “Narrow calibre, perhaps; but powerful. You can shoot a bigger gun and bigger projectile, Barry. I don’t know what your limits may be, but I know they’re wide--if you care to range them.” “That’s nice of you, Mike.... I guess I’ll feel like working ... pretty soon.... As for falling in love, ... I suppose I’ll know it if I do.... Don’t you think so?” Coltfoot took his hat and stick: “I’m not sure. I don’t believe the thing conforms always to specific gravity or Troy weight or carats or decimals. I don’t believe that a standard test will always give the same reaction.” He scowled: “I don’t believe there’s such a thing as love in elemental supply. I think it’s always found in combination--endless combinations.... And how the hell you’re to recognise it, candidly, I don’t know.” “Stay to dinner; will you, Mike?” “Sorry.... By the way, how is your little waif, the Goddess of Discord, getting on with Smull?” “All right, I fancy.” “Don’t you see her?” “I haven’t lately.” “Well, the gossip is that she’s sure fire. Frank Donnell believes in her. I’ve heard that Smull is crazy about her and stands to back her to the limit.... I’m sorry--rather.” “About what?” asked Annan sharply.