Carson stared straight at Garner. “_My_ account? Oh no!” “Yes, on your account. I've kept it from you all this time. I'm your friend now in full--to the very bone, but at that time I felt too sore to tell you. I'd lost all I cared for on earth, but I simply had too much of primitive man left in me to let you know how well you stood. My God, Carson, about that time I used to sit at my desk behind some old book pretending to read, but just looking at you as you sat at work wondering how it would feel to have what was yours. Then I watched you both together; you seemed actually made for each other, an ideal couple. Then came your--she refused you.” “I know, I know, but why talk about it, Garner?” Carson had risen and stood in the doorway in the rays of the morning sun. There was silence for a moment. The church bells were ringing and negroes and whites were passing along the street below. “It may be good for me to speak of it and be done with it, or it may not,” said Garner; “but this is what I was coming to. I've said it was a long time before I could tell you that she was once--I don't know how she is now, but she was at one time in love with you.” “Oh no, no, she was never that!” Dwight said. “We were great friends, but she never cared that much for me or for any one.” “Well, it was a long time before I could say what I thought about that, and I have only just now taken another step in self-renunciation. Carson, I can now say that you didn't have a fair deal, and that I have reached a point in which I want to see you get it. I think I know why she refused you.” “You do?” Dwight said, pale and excited, as he came away from the door and leaned heavily against the wall near his friend. “Yes, it was this way. I've studied it all out. She loved Albert as few women love their brothers, and his grim end was an almost unbearable shock. After his death, you know it leaked out that you had been Albert's constant companion through his dissipation, almost, in fact, up to the very end. She couldn't reconcile herself to your part, innocent as it was, in the tragedy, and it simply killed the feeling she had for you. I suppose it is natural to a character as strong as hers.” “I've always feared that--that was the reason,” said Dwight, falteringly, as he went back to the door and looked out. There was a droop of utter dejection on him and his face seemed to have aged. “Garner,” he said, suddenly, “there is no use denying anything. You have admitted your love for her, why should I deny mine? I never cared for any other woman and I never shall.”