"’Yes, this certainly was the place for you’ I temporized, struggling with irritation at the mess he had made of existence. I couldn’t but recognize the inevitability of what he had told me; but my heart kept asking, why is it necessary for men to be so selfish, so helpless in the face of results clearly to be foreseen? "’Exactly’ he agreed with my spoken word. ’This land has taught me a great lesson. I’m getting back my grip ... more than I hoped....’ He stopped abruptly. Again I had the feeling of something being held back, of something missing from the story. I awoke to the fact that, notwithstanding all he had told me, his present spiritual status remained unexplained. He quite obviously _had_ recovered his grip—but how, and why? It wasn’t in keeping with the rest of the hidden years. And of course I didn’t believe my own platitude on the influence of the land. "’I mean, I’m getting back my self-respect’ he said ’I’m really thinking of going home. The past begins to look like a sort of joke—a horrible, fantastic joke; but I shall leave off loving her now. Try to, anyway. I’ve learned....’ "I wondered what it could be that so puzzled me about the case. After I’d gone to bed that night—it was nearly morning—I lay awake for a long while trying to think the problem out. Why had he lost his self-respect, in the beginning? Because she wouldn’t love him? I thought I knew him well enough to recognize this as the correct answer; he belonged to the unhappy company of men who can’t support life when the ego is denied. But she had sent him away, at last, with a lash of the whip, with scorn that even his tried humility couldn’t brook. How the devil, then, had he recovered his self-respect? Self-respect is a matter of human relations; it can’t be drawn out of the air. *V* "While I tossed on the bed, vainly trying to piece this broken logic together, I heard someone moving on the opposite side of the house. Bert and I were alone in the bungalow. He, too, had been kept awake by the excitement of our meeting. Soon he began to pace softly up and down the far side of the verandah. I was debating in my mind the wisdom of going out to have another smoke with him, when his footsteps seemed to leave the porch and sink into the grass. In a moment I heard low voices outside, a little distance from the house. I couldn’t make out what was being said. Suddenly I thought that someone must have come with a message from the ship. I jumped up and ran to the window.