It would not have taken much in those days, he believed, to have made the relationship more interesting.

But changes had come.

Alice had left town, and for years they had drifted apart.

Then had come Billy, and Billy had found Alice, thus bringing about the odd circumstance of their renewing of acquaintanceship.

Perhaps, at that time, if he had not already thought he cared for Billy, there would have been something more than acquaintanceship.
But he _had_ thought he cared for Billy all these years; and now, at this late day, to wake up and find that he cared for Alice! A pretty mess he had made of things! Was he so inconstant then, so fickle?
Did he not know his own mind five minutes at a time?
What would Alice Greggory think, even if he found the courage to tell her?
What could she think?
What could anybody think?
Arkwright fairly ground his teeth in impotent wrath--and he did not know whether he were the most angry that he did not love Billy, or that he had loved Billy, or that he loved somebody else now.
It was while he was in this unenviable frame of mind that he went to see Alice.