If the truth were known, his soul had many times craved self-sacrifice--a hunger from which true men and women do not long escape. So he hugged the imitation, knowing it to be an imitation, but pretending it was real; before this false altar he "stepped aside," crying within himself that he had done a noble act, and knowing it was counterfeit. The knowledge, not the sacrifice, was bitter; nevertheless, this false altar sweetly fed his innate hunger--and, to keep the false in an attitude of real, he dreamed more, drank more. In the three years which had passed since then he retained only the love of drifting. As he now looked seriously up into Jane's face he was swept by one thought: tragedy, cruelty, disappointment were entitled to no place in the atmosphere of her dwelling. With a pang he realized that Dale was bringing them all to her. With a bound, something that was very far from being false, awoke in his heart, whispering how she might be spared. Then he perceived her still smiling down at him. "Dreaming?" she asked. "Fascinated," he murmured. Without assistance she slipped from the saddle, exclaiming: "My, but it's a lovely day!" "Isn't it! Oh, you can't interrupt the Colonel and Dale just now," he warned, seeing her intention. "They're hard at it. Come with me while I tie your horse, and then let's go to your charmed circle and talk. Have you forgiven my--er--shortcomings?" "I'd forgotten you were so afflicted," she laughed, knowing he had no reference to the dinner--that absolutely closed subject. "I didn't know I was either, till you told me one day. In fact, you're always enlightening me. How wonderful you must be to discover so many things in a chap!" "My insight is very clear," she observed, without enthusiasm. "A vision filtered through such wonderful eyes should transform everything to beauty," he smiled. "In a negative way I might feel complimented." "It would be so negative. How long will the Colonel and Dale be closeted?" "Lord knows. They've lots to talk about. Dale has reached a place where the Colonel finds him exciting." "Isn't he a marvel!" she exclaimed. "Oh, he's a marvel, all right," Brent grumbled. "But his vanity will surpass his great achievements;--don't delude yourself about that!" "Well; you're an authority on that condition of life. Do you enjoy it?" "If you'll give me more reason to be vain, I'll tell you." She ignored this, and when they were among the cedars he began again; not caring what he talked about as much as to be talking. He felt that if he stopped, she might read through his depression. "Do you remember the last time we were here? You lectured me for loafing, and shooting woodpeckers. There were other things, but you couldn't recall them at the moment. I've been doing some right stiff thinking since then!" "Retrospection is good for the soul," she smiled at him.