"For good, no, hardly." Again a laugh, but tense now, forced. "Nor quitting. In plain English I mean I'm kicked out, fired. By request, very insistent request, I've resigned." With an effort he met the girl's eyes fairly. "I've babbled my last lecture in college halls, piped my swan song. The curtain is down, the orchestra has packed its instruments. Only the echo now remains." * * * * * "Tell me about it, Steve." The old man had gone, dodderingly, on a pitifully transparent pretext. The girl had tossed coat and gloves on one chair and herself had taken another, removing her hat as she spoke. "Begin at the beginning and tell me what's the matter--what this all means." "There is no beginning that I know of," with a shrug that fell far short of the indifferent. "What it means I've already told you." The hat followed the coat, hanging where it caught on the latter by one pin. "Let's not dissimulate for the present," pleaded the girl, "or juggle words. There's a time for everything." "And the present?" "Don't, please! As a favor, if you wish. Begin at the beginning." "I repeat, there is none to my knowledge. There's only an end." "The end, then," swiftly; "the reason for it. Don't you wish to tell me?" "No, I don't wish to. I intend to tell you, however. It was all regular, my retirement; no one at fault among the powers that are. I had been warned--and failed to profit. It was very regular." "Yes, yes; but the reason! Tell me that." "Certainly. I was just coming to it. I failed to materialize at the department two days in succession. I overslept." "Steve Armstrong! Steve--what do you fancy I'm made of! Do you mean to tell me or merely to--dissect?" "No, not dissect, to tell you. That's why I came; to tell you several things, this among the rest. Elice, don't do that, don't cry. Please!--I don't intend to be a brute, I didn't mean anything. I'm simply ashamed to tell you straight from the shoulder. I'm down in the gutter. You'll hear, though, anyway. I might better--I was drunk, irresponsible, two days in succession. That's all." "You--that way; you, Steve Armstrong!" No tears now, no hysterics; just steady, unbelieving expectancy. "I can't believe it--won't. You're playing with me." "No, it's true. I won't say 'God knows it's true.' I'm not dog enough yet to--blaspheme. It's simply true." "Steve!" The girl was on her feet, half way to him. "I never dreamed, never--You poor boy!" "Elice, don't--don't touch me. I ask it--don't!" "What--you can't mean--that!" "Yes. Sit down, please." The voice was thick. "I have several things to tell you. This was only one."