“Because,” said Mr. Carteret, “I’m going to irritate you. I’m going to butt in. I’m going to mix up in a matter that is none of my business. If you want to knock me down, I sha’n’t like it, but I sha’n’t resent it.” Evanston looked at him suspiciously. “What do you mean?” he said. “From what I’ve heard,” said Mr. Carteret, “your private affairs are in a tangle.” “So you’ve heard?” said Evanston. “Yes, I have heard a good many things which are probably not so. I want to know the facts.” Somewhat to his surprise, Evanston made no show of resentment. “The facts are simple,” he said. “I’m tired of this thing, and I’m going to put an end to it.” “I’ve heard that,” said Mr. Carteret; “but if you don’t mind telling me, I’d like to know why. I like you, Frank,” he added; “I like your wife; I like your children--I don’t want to see you bust up.” “You are very good, Carty,” said Evanston, “but nothing can be done about it. It’s a long story, with rights and wrongs on both sides; but at the beginning it was my fault, and I am ready to pay for it.” “What do you mean by ‘your fault at the beginning’?” asked Mr. Carteret. “I married her,” said Evanston. “Well, didn’t you want to?” asked Mr. Carteret. “I wanted to too much,” said Evanston; “that was the trouble.” Mr. Carteret looked puzzled. “I don’t think I understand,” he said. From his somewhat objective point of view the more complex personality of Evanston was baffling. “It was this way, Carty,” Evanston went on. “Her mother--you know her mother?” Mr. Carteret nodded. “Always for the stuff,” he observed. “Exactly,” said Evanston. “Well, to put it bluntly, she made the match.” “But I thought you were rather keen about her.” “So I was,” said Evanston; “but Edith wasn’t keen about me. The mother forced her into it, and I was foolish enough to believe that if she married me, she would care for me. The fact was,” he added, “I was walking on air, with my head in a dream.” “I understand,” said Mr. Carteret. “Well, we were married,” continued Evanston, “and then suddenly out of a blue sky came the panic and the T. & B. failure, and I was flat broke and a defaulter.” “Defaulter!” said Mr. Carteret. “Defaulter as to my side of the matrimonial bargain, which was to provide the establishment,” said Evanston. “The realization of this fact was sudden and painful.” “Sudden? How do you mean sudden?” asked Mr. Carteret. “Something happened,” said Evanston, “that opened my eyes.” “Do you mean the loss of your money?” “No,” said Evanston, “you know the money end of it came out all right. My uncle died, and I inherited more than I had lost; but I had already learned how much and how little money could do. And so things drifted along, and now the only course open seems to be to call it all off.” Evanston was silent. “Is that all?” asked Mr. Carteret. “Yes,” replied the other.