He was so impassioned that passersby began to observe them curiously.  Tetlow became uneasy.  But Norman and Dorothy were unconscious of what was going on around them.  The energy of his passion compelled her, though the passion itself was unwelcome.  “I’m sorry,” she said gently.  “Though you would have hurt me, if you could, I don’t want to hurt you. . . .  I’m sorry.  I can’t love you. . . .  I’m sorry.  Come on, Mr. Tetlow.”

Norman stood aside.  She and Tetlow went on out of the building.  He remained in the same place, oblivious of the crowd streaming by, each man or woman with a glance at his vacant stare.

XIV

Than Fred Norman no man ever had better reason to feel securely entrenched upon the heights of success.  It was no silly vaunt of optimism for him to tell Lockyer that only loss of life or loss of mind could dislodge him.  And a few days after Dorothy had extinguished the last spark of hope he got ready to pull himself together and show the world that it was indulging too soon in its hypocritical headshakings over his ruin.

“I am going to open an office of my own at once,” he said to his sister.

She did not wish to discourage him, but she could not altogether keep her thoughts from her face.  She had, in a general way, a clear idea of the complete system of tollgates, duly equipped with strong barriers, which the mighty few have established across practically all the highroads to material success.  Also, she felt in her brother’s manner and tone a certain profound discouragement, a lack of the unconquerable spirit which had carried him so far so speedily.  It is not a baseless notion that the man who has never been beaten is often destroyed by his first reverse.  Ursula feared the spell of success had been broken for him.

“You mean,” she suggested, with apparent carelessness, “that you will give up your forty thousand a year?”

He made a disdainful gesture.  “I can make more than that,” said he.  “It’s a second rate lawyer who can’t in this day.”

“Of course you can,” replied she tactfully.  “But why not take a rest first?  Then there’s old Burroughs—­on the war path.  Wouldn’t it be wise to wait till he calms down?”

“If Burroughs or any other man is necessary to me,” rejoined Fred, “the sooner I find it out the better.  I ought to know just where I—­I myself—­stand.”

“No one is necessary to you but yourself,” said Ursula, proudly and sincerely.  “But, Fred—­Are you yourself just now?”

“No, I’m not,” admitted he.  “But the way to become so again isn’t by waiting but by working.”  An expression of sheer wretchedness came into his listless, heavy eyes.  “Urse, I’ve got to conquer my weakness now, or go under.”