“Thanks, Corson, thanks.  You have come nearer to stirring this dead heart of mine than any one since—­well, no matter.  I reciprocate your feeling.  I shall have a hard time of it after you have gone.”

“Then join me.”

“It is impossible.”

“But why?  This life will destroy you sooner or later.”

“Oh—­that’s been done already.”

“No, it hasn’t.  There are more noble things in you than you realize.  What you need is to give them scope and let them out.”

“You don’t know me.  What you see is all on the surface.  If I ever had any power of decision or action it has gone.  I am the victim, and not the master of my destiny.  I am drifting along like a derelict, with no compass to guide, rudder to steer or anchor to grip the bottom.”

“Make another effort, old man, do!  Look at me.  I was in as bad a fix as you are only a little while ago.”

“Yes; but see what has happened to you!  Circumstances have tumbled you out of the nest, and of course you had to fly.  I wish something would happen to me!  I would almost be glad to have lightning strike me.”

“What you say is true in a way, of course.  I know I don’t deserve any credit for breaking out of this life.  But don’t you think a man can do it alone, without any such frightful catastrophes to help him?  It seems to me, now, that I could.  I feel as if I could burst through stone walls.”

“Of course you do, my dear fellow, and you can.  But something has put strength into you!  That’s what I need.”

“Well, let me put it into you!  Lean on me.  I can’t bear to leave you here and see you go down!  Come, brace up.  Make an effort.  Decide.  Tear yourself away!”

“You actually make my heart flutter, Davy; I feel as if I would really like to do it.  But I can’t.  It’s no use.  I shouldn’t get across the ferry before I’d begin to hang back.”

“But you don’t belong to this life.  You are above it, naturally.  You ought to be a force for good in the world.  Society needs such men as you are, and needs them badly.  Come!  If I can break these meshes you can.”

“No, my dear fellow, that’s a non-sequitur.  There is different blood flowing in our veins, and we have had a different environment and education.  As far back as I know anything about them, my people have all lived on the surface of life, and I have floated along with them.  But, by heavens—­I have at least seen down into the depths!”

“Well, I have my inheritance of bad blood also.  I had a father who was not only weak but wicked.”

“Yes, but think of your mother.”

“Mantel, you are carrying this too far.  A man is something more than the mere chemical product of his ancestor’s blood and brains!  Every one has a new and original endowment of his own.  He must live and act for himself.”

“Maybe so, but everything seems, at least, to be a fixed and inevitable consequence of what has gone before.  I don’t want to disparage this last act of yours, but see how far back its roots reach into the past.  See what a chain of events led up to it, and what frightful causes have been operating to bring you up to the sticking point!  How long ago was it that you were just as ready to throw up the game?”