I beg your pardon, old man,--have a drop ?" Jack waved his hand in denial, his eyes still on his friend: "Not now, Garry, thank you." Garry dropped the stopper into the decanter, pushed back the empty tumbler and began pacing the floor, halting now and then to toe some pattern in the carpet, talking all the time to himself in broken sentences, like one thinking aloud.

All Jack's heart went out to his friend as he watched him.

He and Ruth were so happy.

All their future was so full of hope and promise, and Garry--brilliant, successful Garry,--the envy of all his associates, so harassed and so wretched! "Garry, sit down and listen to me," Jack said at last.

"I am your oldest friend; no one you know thinks any more of you than I do, or will be more ready to help.