“Oh no, this art thing is a new fad with me—that is of course I’ve always been interested in beautiful things, but it’s only recently that I’ve been actively interested. I’m afraid I’m a dilettante—rather an awkward confession for a man of forty-one to make, but it’s true. I thought I had a career as an astronomer, but I gave that up some years ago, and since then I’ve tried a bit of everything. One must play some sort of game, you know. It must be wonderful to be like that little girl with Nels. Her game will be earning a living for some time to come—” Another pause gave Ruth a clue to his thoughts. “No; I’m not exactly in that position—of course I want to earn money, too, but only because that is the world’s stamp of success,” she said. He had evidently forgotten the picture they went to see, for he asked her if she was hungry, and when she said “No,—” “I thought young things were always hungry, especially art students, but if you’re not hungry let’s sit here and talk. Nels and Miss Winslow will be sure to find us soon.” “Astronomy must be an awfully interesting study,” she said, wondering how any man once having married Gloria could ever have let her go, and why Gloria once having loved a man like this, could ever have sent him away. “Yes, interesting, but like art it is very long. I sometimes think I would have done better to take up astrology.” “You’re joking,” said Ruth. “Surely you don’t believe in that sort of thing.” “Why not? There’s a grain of truth at the bottom of all old beliefs, and it is as easy to believe that one’s destiny is controlled by the stars as to believe in a Divine Providence, sometimes much easier. The stars are cold, passionless things, inexorable and fixed, each moving in its appointed round—passing and repassing other stars, meeting and parting—alone as human lives are alone. There are satellites powerless to leave the planet around which they circle and here and there twin stars that seem one light from this distance, but doubtless are really millions of miles separated in space—” He caught the intent look on her face and smiled: “No, on the whole I think astrology would not have been any more satisfactory than astronomy, for even there, there is nothing clear cut, ‘The stars incline but do not compel.’ Just one thing is really sure, one must play with something.” “Here comes Nels,” said Ruth. “Just in time to keep me from persuading you that I am quite insane,” said Professor Pendragon. “I was going to show you a wonderful picture in the morgue, but it’s too late, Nels, for you’ll never be able to find it alone, and I am going to buy it. Some day, if you’ll come and have tea with me—all of you—you can advise me about the proper place to hang it.” “We’ll do that, but I’ll bet I can find it by myself—go ahead and buy it and when we come to your house I’ll be able to describe the picture and tell you who painted it.” “Of course, if some one tells you.”