He found himself in the street again, and he perceived that he must be walking fast when a voice called him by name, and asked him what his hurry was.  The voice was Stoller’s, who got into step with him and followed the first with a second question.

“Made up your mind to go to the manoeuvres with me?”

His bluntness made it easy for March to answer:  “I’m afraid my wife couldn’t stand the drive back and forth.”

“Come without her.”

“Thank you.  It’s very kind of you.  I’m not certain that I shall go at all.  If I do, I shall run out by train, and take my chances with the crowd.”

Stoller insisted no further.  He felt no offence at the refusal of his offer, or chose to show none.  He said, with the same uncouth abruptness as before:  “Heard anything of that fellow since he left Carlsbad?”

“Burnamy?”

“Mm.”

“No.”

“Know where he is?”

“I don’t in the least.”

Stoller let another silence elapse while they hurried on, before he said, “I got to thinking what he done afterwards.  He wasn’t bound to look out for me; he might suppose I knew what I was about.”

March turned his face and stared in Stoller’s, which he was letting hang forward as he stamped heavily on.  Had the disaster proved less than he had feared, and did he still want Burnamy’s help in patching up the broken pieces; or did he really wish to do Burnamy justice to his friend?

In any case March’s duty was clear.  “I think Burnamy was bound to look out for you; Mr. Stoller, and I am glad to know that he saw it in the same light.”

“I know he did,” said Stoker with a blaze as from a long-smouldering fury, “and damn him, I’m not going to have it.  I’m not going to, plead the baby act with him, or with any man.  You tell him so, when you get the chance.  You tell him I don’t hold him accountable for anything I made him do.  That ain’t business; I don’t want him around me, any more; but if he wants to go back to the paper he can have his place.  You tell him I stand by what I done; and it’s all right between him and me.  I hain’t done anything about it, the way I wanted him to help me to; I’ve let it lay, and I’m a-going to.  I guess it ain’t going to do me any harm, after all; our people hain’t got very long memories; but if it is, let it.  You tell him it’s all right.”

“I don’t know where he is, Mr. Stoller, and I don’t know that I care to be the bearer of your message,” said March.

“Why not?”

“Why, for one thing, I don’t agree with you that it’s all right.  Your choosing to stand by the consequences of Burnamy’s wrong doesn’t undo it.  As I understand, you don’t pardon it—­”

Stoller gulped and did not answer at once.  Then he said, “I stand by what I done.  I’m not going to let him say I turned him down for doing what I told him to, because I hadn’t the sense to know what I was about.”