The barber nodded; he was very pale. He attempted to speak--uttered a rending hiccup--and was still. “What are you doing here?” Devlin hiccupped: “Sittin’ on my--mistress’s--doorstep.” “Why?” “To cool the ferment of my imagination,” said the barber sadly. Noll laughed: “What’s the matter with your imagination?” he asked. “It looks all right.” “It’s torrid----” “Oho!” His pale face nodded: “Quite so--quite damned torrid,” said the hairdresser, and hiccupped fearsomely. “It ferments.” “Rather unpleasant!” said Noll. “On the contr’y,” said the barber--“quite pleasant.... It’s in the morning my head will be bursting.” “Very awkward indeed!” said Noll drily, humouring him. “Of awkward I know nothing,” said the barber--“but it will be more than unpleasant when the cock-y-doo’s begin their--hiccup--morning song. Damn this hiccup!” “Come, Devlin--wake up!” Devlin laughed sadly: “I wish them lamps would stop sliding down the street. Would you mind,” said he--“I’m afraid it’s a great trouble I’m putting ye to--would you mind givin’ me your arm?” “Why?” Devlin blinked: “The man who is intoxicated with love should avoid mixing his intoxication with spirits.... I want to take my head carefully in both hands and put it in yon horse-trough.” “Don’t be an ass, Devlin,” said Noll, and sat down beside him on the step. “What’s the meaning of all this?” The barber coughed: “It’s anarchic I am--and filled with philosophic gloom,” he said. “It’s rollin’ round the intestines of me----” “Oho! This is serious indeed!” “It is.... It’s damn terrible.... I’m all at sea--like a great bumping motor-cart going down a great slithery waterfall.” “Bad as that?” said Noll. “It’s worse than that,” said Devlin, and hiccupped. “I wish I could get rid of this damn hiccup,” he added irritably--“it nearly pushes me off the steps each time.” “Well, Devlin--can nothing be done for you?” “It can. And I’m doing it.” “What?” “I’m face to face with my great hairy destiny, and, begod, I’ve hit it and floored it.” “But that is rather rough treatment of your destiny!” “The divil take it, yes. I’ve kicked it out of my life.” Noll put his hand on the other’s shoulder: “Come, Devlin,” he said--“let us have good honest talk. What’s the trouble between you and your destiny?” Devlin coughed: