"You can't help pitying the poor devil if he was fond of her," said Peter. "But he was n't good enough for her. It was his own fault too, so he is n't deserving even of pity." "Probably that makes it all the harder. What was the matter with him?" "He was one of the kind we spoke of the other night--the kind who always sits in the grandstand instead of getting into the game." "Pardon me if I 'm wrong, but--I thought you spoke rather sympathetically of that kind the other night." "I was probably reflecting his views," Monte parried. "That accounts for it," returned Peter. "Somehow, it did n't sound consistent in you. I wish I could see your face, Covington." "We're sitting in the dark here," answered Monte. "Go on." "Marjory liked this fellow well enough because--well, because he looked more or less like a man. He was big physically, and all that. Besides, his ancestors were all men, and I suppose they handed down something." "What was his name?" "I think I 'd rather not tell you that. It's of no importance. This is all strictly in confidence." "I understand." "So she let herself see a good deal of him. He was able to amuse her. That kind of fellow generally can entertain a woman. In fact, that is about all they are good for. When it comes down to the big things, there is n't much there. They are well enough for the holidays, and I guess that was all she was thinking about. She had had a hard time, and wanted amusement. Maybe she fancied that was all she ever wanted; but--well, there was more in her than she knew herself." "A thousand times more!" exclaimed Peter. "She found it out. Perhaps, after all, this fellow served his purpose in helping her to realize that." "Perhaps." "So, after that, he left." "And he cared for her?" "Yes." "Poor devil!" "I don't know," mused Monte. "He seemed, on the whole, rather glad that he had been able to do that much for her." "I 'd like to meet that man some day. I have a notion there is more in him than you give him credit for, Covington." "I doubt it." "A man who would give up her--" "She's the sort of woman a man would want to do his level best for," broke in Monte. "If that meant giving her up,--if the fellow felt he was n't big enough for her,--then he could n't do anything else, could he?" "The kind big enough to consider that would be big enough for her," declared Peter. Monte drew a quick breath. "Do you mind repeating that?" "I say the man really loving her who would make such a sacrifice comes pretty close to measuring up to her standard." "I think he would like to hear that. You see, it's the first real sacrifice he ever undertook." "It may be the making of him." "Perhaps." "He'll always have her before him as an ideal. When you come in touch with such a woman as she--you can't lose, Covington, no matter how things turn out." "I 'll tell him that too."