“I am a fool, an utter, consummate, wretched fool!” he said, aloud. “It’s like that pocket knife that I was sure Aunt Anne was giving me on my eighth birthday; she had a set of kid travel books for me! It was only that I wanted that knife so badly! I still remember how I felt when I opened those books! I wanted Anne so much I thought I’d get her. Of course any one would love Latham. He’s fine. And it isn’t her fault. I--I’m the blind man!” It was a comfort to decide that Anne was in no wise to blame; it was such a comfort that Kit did what he must have done when he was eight and the knife that he had convinced himself was coming never came. He was alone in his room with no one to see, and he dropped his head on his folded arms and sobbed over his ruined hopes. CHAPTER XIV _Adjustment_ After Kit had left them Miss Carrington and Helen remained till late talking earnestly, with their chairs drawn close. Their voices rose and fell--the fall emphasized--in all the earnestness of an important discussion, but never did they rise to the point at which words were distinguishable at any distance. Minerva passed in and out of the room behind them, and though its windows were open she heard nothing except a clear yet muffled murmur. “She will know all about it, _plus_, but there is no reason why she should be gratified now,” said Miss Carrington, malice in her eye. At last, when the old clock on the stairway struck eleven, Miss Carrington rose. “Well, Helen, it will be past midnight before we get our chapter read and are in bed,” she said. “Of course, my dear, you read your nightly chapter? I am sure I can’t predict. Men differ almost as much as other animals; in fact, I’m not sure that they don’t vary more--sorrel horses, black ones, maltese cats--it’s easy to generalize on their traits. I’ve never known Kit under these conditions; I can’t say how he’ll react. It’s notorious that widowers are easily consoled. Still, it is often easier to console a man for the loss of what he had than for what he missed. Death is supposed to soften the hard heart. Kit might easily be caught on the rebound; then, again, he may not rebound, but drop. You handle a racquet well; can you bat him? That’s the wrong term!” “Serve him?” laughed Helen. “That’s the word, and a lovely word it is in this connection.”