Humphrey gave a little snort; brushed the idea away with a sweep of a long hand. 'No use!' he said brusquely. He rolled down the desktop and locked it with a snap. 'Getting stale myself. Sleep on it. Not a thing you can do, Hen!' He knocked the ashes from his pipe, gloomily. Buttoned his vest. Suddenly he broke out with this:-- 'You're a lucky brute, Hen!' Henry started; glanced up; fumbled at his moustache. 'You're wondering why I said that. But, man, you're a genius--Yes, you are! I have to plug for it. But you've got the flare. You know well enough what's loaded all this circulation on us. Your stories! Not a thing else. You'll do more of 'em. You'll be famous.' 'Oh, no, Hump I You don't know how I've----' 'Yes, you'll be famous. I won't. It's a gift--fame, success. It's a sort of edge God--or something--puts on a man. A cutting edge. You've simply got it. I simply haven't.' Henry pulled and pulled at his moustache. 'And you've got a girl--a lovely girl. She's mad about you--oh, yes she is! I know. I've seen her look at you.' 'But, Hump, you don't just know what----' 'She doesn't have to hide her feelings. Not seriously, not with a lying smile. And you don't have to hide yours. You haven't got this furtive rope around your neck, strangling the breath of decent morality out of your soul. Thank God you don't know what it means--that struggle. She'll be announcing her engagement one of these days. 'There'll be presents and flowers. You'll get stirred up and write something a thousand times better than you know how to write. Money will come--oh, yes it will! It'll roll to you, Hen. For a time. Or at times. And you'll marry--a nice clean wedding. God, just to think of it is like the May winds off the lake!' He threw out his long arms. Henry thought, perversely enough, that he looked like Lincoln. 'But the greatest thing of all is that you're twenty. Think of it! Twenty!... Hen, when I was twenty I put my life on a schedule for five years. They were up last month. 'I was to be flying at twenty-four. Think of it--flying! Through the air, man! Like a gull! At twenty-five I was to be famous and rich. A conqueror! I slaved for that. Worked days and nights and Sundays for that. Sweated for the Old Man there on the _Voice_; put up with his stupid little insults.' He sprang up; got into his coat; looked at his watch. 'I'm late. Got to stop at the rooms too. Mildred'll be wondering. You can stay here if you like.' But Henry clung to him. Around the back street they went. And Humphrey talked on.