He did not say it with braggadocio, and yet it seemed incongruous, after the glimpse she had had of the man. "Why?" she said, laying her two hands impulsively on his arm and with every instinct of her feminine nature sending him a message of sympathy. "It's such a long story!" he said slowly. Then, with a last return of the Saxon's fear of sentimentality: "If I were sober I wouldn't tell you!" "You're not--" "Drunk? Yes! For ten days," he said--"in my way! There's nothing to fear; never gets the best of me! When it does--crack! It'll be over in a second!" "But why?" she asked helplessly. "Why not?" he said fiercely. "All I care about is a good fight, and, by George, it _is_ a fight, a real sensation. You can't understand, but it's so! To have your temples beating like trip-hammers, to fight the mists out of your eyes--a great brute like this whipping back and forth, shaking you off. One slip, a hundredth of a second, and then to beat it all, to master it. God! it's gorgeous!" Suddenly, with an attempt at evasion, he drew back. "You know, I had a mind once. I reason things out now--I see straight! Do you know how I figure it out? This way! What earthly use am I in the world? What earthly use is a cuss who is given forty thousand a year, without earning it, and told to amuse himself? None! By George! Sometimes I believe dissipation is nature's way of getting rid of us! And she's right, too; the sooner it's over, the more chance for some one real to come along!" "Are you serious?" He drew his hand across his forehead, pinching his temples. "Curiously enough, I am! I'm quite hopeless, and I don't care in the least! So don't let's waste time!" He started to crank the machine; but she stopped him. "There was a woman?" she said. "Yes, but not in the first place." He turned to her, puzzled. "Why do you want to make me talk?" "I don't know; I do!" "What's your name?" She hesitated. "Dodo." "I like that!" he said reflectively. "So you are really interested? And you don't know our story? Lord! That's funny! I thought every one knew the story of the Lindaberry boys! We certainly raised enough Cain! Do you know, I really was a damned nice sort of kid--men adored me!" He drew in his breath reflectively, conjuring up, with a tolerant smile, a picture out of forgotten days. "Yes, a real decent cuss who'd have done something if he'd had half a chance! There's only one thing I love in this world--a fight; and they took it all away from me!