"Five thousand dollars a year, and if I made good an interest later in the business. He said four thousand dollars to begin with and gradually crawled up." "You're getting now from the University--" "Twelve hundred." "With ultimate possibilities,--I emphasize possibilities--" "I'll be dean of the department some day if I stick." "With a salary of two thousand a year." Armstrong nodded. "And that's the end, the top round of the ladder if you were to remain until you were fifty and were displaced eventually without a pension." "Yes; that's the biggest plum on the university tree. It can't grow anything larger." In his place Darley Roberts dropped back as though he had nothing to say. Involuntarily, with a nervous impatience distinctive of him, his fingers tapped twice on the edge of the chair; then, aroused to attention, the hand lay still. "Well?" commented Armstrong at length. Roberts merely looked at him, not humorously nor with intent to tantalize, but with unconscious analysis written large upon his face. "Well?" repeated Armstrong, "I'm waiting. The floor is yours." "I was merely wondering," slowly, "how it would seem to be a person like you. I can't understand." "No, you can't, Darley. As I said a moment ago, we're different as day is from night." "I was wondering another thing, too, Armstrong. Do you want to know what it was?" "Yes; I know in advance I'll not have to blush at a compliment." "I don't know about that. I'm not the judge. I merely anticipated in fancy the time when you will wake up. You will some day. It's inevitable. To borrow your phrase, 'it's written.'" "You think so?" The accompanying smile was appreciative. "I know so. It's life we're living, not fiction." "And when I do--pardon me--come out of it?" The questioner was still smiling. "That's what I was speculating on." Again the impatient fingers tapped on the chair, and again halted at their own alarm. "You'll either be a genius and blossom in a day, or be a dead failure and go to the devil by the shortest route." "You think there's no possible middle trail?" "Not for you. You're not built that way." The prediction was spoken with finality--too much finality to be taken humorously. Responsively, bit by bit, the smile left Armstrong's face. "I won't attempt to answer that, Darley, or to defend myself. To come back to the point, you think I'm a fool not to accept Graham's offer?" As before, his companion shrugged unconsciously. That was all. "Does it occur to you that I might possibly have a reason--one that, while it wouldn't show up well under your tape line, to me seems adequate?" "I'm not immune to reason." "You'd like to have me put it in words?" "Yes, if you wish."