Tom had poisoned him. Tom had lied to him. Tom led him into ugly places. Tom had a laughter that did not mean joy and tears that bespoke sorrow of a sort he could not give his heart to. A merry world. A horrible world! He needed to blot it out. It was so packed a frenzy of maze and quicksand, that, if he did not draw himself away, he must become a part of its frenzy--a mere whirling molecule in its tortuous falsehood. Let Tom go his own way! Let him be! David found what he was doing. There was his place of vantage to which he could swing, and there was he, clambering up to it. He was leaving Tom behind. They had a talk. Tom looked silently and long at David. He was very sweet and like the Tom David would never have left, in his silence. Then he said: “David, I hope that whatever you do, you will not marry a good and beautiful woman.” He seemed very tired to David. The old fire was there, but it was moveless under a cloud that would not break. David had no thought of marrying any one. No plan was farther from his consciousness. He smiled rather confidently, therefore. He was interested. “Why?” “Because, if you marry that sort, it will be almost impossible for you to break away.” “Why, Tom, if one married should one want to break away?” “Marriage has this, dreadful about it, David. It is life for a woman to be married, death for a man.” “How is that possible? If it is good for one---- What a discord you make of the world!” Tom laughed. The fire parted the cloud. “What is the world but just such unending discord? Look at the world. Is it a sweet harmonious place? The one harmony it knows is an infinite texture of just such deathless conflicts, of just such tragic sacrifice of individual lives to its cruel rhythms.” David was silent. Tom, the barer of life, was once more before him. He felt that Tom might well be true in his words. He had not altogether left the road of his Dream. Tom went on. He had been silent and distant. He had made, for a long time, no advances to David. He had left him alone. Now in the silence of David, he saw his old art upon him, caught the flare of that past when he had taught and given and David had received. He had no power against this haunting past which he loved. He went forward to recapture it. Blindly he went like an insect toward a fire. “David,” he spoke with an incomprehensible passion that shriveled his face, “David, I would rather see you married to a whore--than to a woman who is beautiful and strong.” Already he was afraid, burned perhaps. He swerved away. “...Though it broke your heart, it would be less dangerous. You would escape. Comfort and happiness alone, you will be helpless against.” He stopped. He looked at David. He saw how different this was which had happened after his words, from what had always happened. David was calm. He was away. Tom had lost him.... * * * * * David went on with his visits to Helen Daindrie.