And David there before him with clear eyes! David ready to judge him! David in search of words wherewith to judge him!... Tom came to himself in anger. All his effort to be, for once, harmoniously himself rose up from its defeat and surged toward David. Anger for David! If he lacked fingers long and skilled enough to remove this cancer in his friendship, setting him balanceless toward life, then let him blot it out. Let David be blotted out!... He turned against him. “The worst thing about you is that you make me take you seriously. Your troubles are nothing but selfishness. Selfishness is insatiate. So is a dull humorlessness like yours. My Lord, man, what a state you put me in just because we’re friends--just because I want to think well of you, well of your interests and your doubts. What is it all about? Eh, tell me that. What the Devil have you to complain of?” He stood over David and menaced him with words. “You’re a spoilt child: what you need is a Mamma. If you had a spark of wit you’d roar at yourself, roar at me when I am fooled by your childishness into being tender. I am to give, and give, and _give_. If I weary or get out of breath, I am judged. Supposing I turned about, just for a change, and began judging you?” David sat numb. The need of striking back, the need of defense--where was it? Tom lighted the gas-jets. Every gas-jet. The room showed yellow and hard. The light was like the lying of sand, the room was a barbarous arena. Tom’s eyes were one with the blazing gas-jets. Their bell. “Sometimes I am sick, I am sick of it all,” said Tom. “Sometimes I wonder what it must be like, just for a moment to be taken as I am:--to be embraced in understanding; to _receive_.” The door opened, Durthal and Lunn came in. “You have come just in time!” he clasped their hands. “You have rescued me from the presence of my Maker!” Lunn blinked. Durthal was sniggling already. He had caught Tom’s mood, the directions of favor and attack. That was enough. “Oh--oh,” Tom laughed. “Don’t look scared. Markand is my Maker. Didn’t you know that? Being with Markand is a perpetual Day of Judgment. Even in the strictest Faith that should come only once. Living with Markand it never stops. Down--down one must go on one’s knees. And stay there.” David felt Tom’s sneers cut him and bind him motionless. “I am sorry, Tom. I did not mean----” “Oh, it is easy for him.” Tom broke his words. He was facing Durthal and Lunn who had found quick seats on the couch, as one hastens to settle at a performance that has begun already. Tom’s back was to David. Lunn was peering toward him with his heavy head low on his shoulders: blinking and smiling. Durthal beamed into Tom’s face. “It is easy for him. You see, he has nothing to confess. His soul is empty of sin. Did you know that, you fellows? He can promenade about in his soul quite freely, as one takes a stroll by the sea-shore. Altogether empty, I assure you--_of sin_. I must go dragging along.”