"There are many men who call themselves my friends.

I am melancholy to-day, restless, and divided against myself.

I do not know one of my acquaintance whom I would have called to be melancholy with me as I have called you." He leaned across the table and touched MacLean's hand that was somewhat hurriedly fingering the wineglass.

"Come!" he said.

"Loneliness may haunt the level fields as well as the ways that are rugged and steep.