"To-night, Betty--this evening, just a little while ago, I became engaged to Josie Lockwood." She stood as if petrified throughout a wait that seemed to both interminable. Then he heard her catch her breath sharply. He looked up, frightened, but she was smiling steadily into his face. Somehow he found her hand in his. "Oh, Nat dear," she said, "I'm so glad for you.... I wish you all the happiness in the world. I ... Good-night." The hand slipped out of Nat's. He did not move, but waited there with his empty palm outstretched, despair in his eyes and hell in his heart, while she walked quietly from the store. After some time he awoke to the knowledge that she was gone. "Blithering fool!" he growled. "Why didn't I know I loved her like this?" He took a turn to and fro, distracted. "And now I've made a mess of everything! Good Lord! what can I do? I must do something or go mad!" He swung round behind the soda-fountain counter and seized a bottle. "I know what! The rules are off! I can have a drink! I can have two drinks! I can have a million drinks if I want 'em!" Pouring a generous dose of raw whiskey into the glass he lifted it to his lips and threw back his head. But the heavy bouquet of the liquor was stifling in his nostrils, and the first mouthful of it almost choked him. In a fury he flung the glass from him, so that it crashed and splintered upon the floor. "Great Heavens!" he cried. "I don't like the stuff any more.... But"--his gaze fell upon the cigar case--"I can have a smoke. That'll help some!" With feverish haste he snatched a cigar from the nearest box, gnawed off one end, and thrusting the other into the alcohol lighter, puffed vigorously. But to his renovated palate the potent fumes of the tobacco were no less repugnant than the whiskey had been. Half strangled, he plucked the cigar from his mouth and stamped on it. "Oh," he cried wildly, "I'll be--I'll be damned!" He paused, staring vacantly at nothing. "And even that doesn't do any good! God help me, I've forgotten how to swear!" To him, in this overwrought state, came Tracey, lumbering cheerfully in, his mouth shaped for a whistle. At sight of Nat he pulled up as if hit by a club. "'Evenin', Mister Duncan. What's the matter?" By an effort Nat brought his gaze to bear upon the boy and comprehended his existence. "Ain't you feeling well, Mr. Duncan?" "No--rotten!" "What's the matter?" "_Nothing_!" Nat shouted ferociously. "Anything I kin----" "_No_!" At that instant Kellogg appeared. "Hello, Nat! What's been keeping you? I came down to bring you home to supper." "Go to blazes with your supper! Keep away from me! Don't talk to me! I don't want anything to do with you, d'you understand? You and your confounded systems have got me into all this----" He caught sight of his hat abruptly, ceased talking, grabbed the hat and jammed it on his head, muttering; then started on a run for the door.