“We were both right: you have proved it. Philip said to me once that whatever you had done, you had kept your soul clean.” “He did, eh? He said the same thing to me, no longer ago than last night. That’s all either of you know about it. A year ago I wasn’t worth the powder it would have taken to blow me up, Jean; that is the plain, unvarnished fact. I’m not right sure that I am any better now; not in Philip’s definition of goodness. Thanks to you and to him, I’ve got a pot of money; and money brings responsibility; and responsibility bespeaks some little effort at decent living. There you have it in a nutshell.” “I know,” she smiled; “I have heard you talk before.” Then: “You spoke just now of Philip’s definition of goodness. Don’t you think it is the right one?” “Oh, yes; I suppose it is, when you come right down to the foundation of things. The only danger is that it may breed a prickly lot of spiritual pride. That was the chief thing that was the matter with Phil--a pride that made him not only hate the sin, but despise the sinner. The pride is gone now, and in going it has taken some of the righteous hardness along with it, which, you might say, is all to the good. I don’t believe he will ever set himself up in judgment again upon the poor sinners--which is something gained, isn’t it?” “Yes; but the price he is paying is terribly high.” “Sure it is. Yet I’m not losing hope. There are certain mazes in this thing we call life out of which a man has to grope his own way, if he can. There is good stuff in Phil--royally good stuff at bottom, as we both know. If--in the reaction--he doesn’t do something everlastingly to smash his whole future----” She nodded slowly. “That is the greatest danger; that he will cut himself off from every chance of getting back. There are two Denvers over there,”--with a glance backward at the city of the plain lying map-like under the afternoon sun. “I think you know what I mean.” “I do. There are good doors that are slow to open to the wayfarer, and a lot of bad ones that are always open. At the present moment Philip is one of the many drifters. But I am still betting on him.” “If we only knew a little more about it,” she offered musingly. “If we could find out where he went that Monday evening after you left him----” He took her up quickly. “You’d like to have me try to run the thing down, Jean?” “I suppose we have no right to pry. And yet, if we knew----” “I understand. If we can place the father, we shall at least know how bad things are, and if they are or are not altogether past mending. I’ll do my best. Anything else suggest itself?” “You will not lose sight of Philip. He needs your friendship now more than ever.”