Cabot laughed again.

“Is it—­ah—­so funny?” inquired Galusha.  “It does not seem so to me.”

The banker took him by the arm.  “No offense, old chap,” he said.  “Funny?  Of course it’s funny.  It’s wildly funny.  Do you know what I was just thinking?  I was thinking of Aunt Clarissa.  What do you suppose she would have said to this?”

He shouted at the thought.  Galusha joined him to the extent of a smile.  “She would have said it was just what she expected of me,” he observed.  “Quite so—­yes.”

They walked on in silence for some time.  Then Galusha stopped short.

“I have just thought of something,” he said.  “It—­it may have some influence.  She has often said she wished she might see Egypt.  We could go together, couldn’t we?”

Cousin Gussie roared again.  “Of course you could,” he declared.  “And I only wish I could go along.  Loosh, you are more than superb.  You are magnificent.”

He telephoned for his car and chauffeur and, soon after dinner, said good-by to his hostess and his cousin and prepared to start for Boston.  The Sunday dinner was a bountiful one, well cooked, and he did justice to it.  Galusha, however, ate very little.  He seemed to be not quite certain whether he was at the table or somewhere in the clouds.

The chauffeur discovered that he had scarcely oil and gasoline sufficient for his hundred-mile trip and decided to drive to Trumet to obtain more.  Cabot, who felt the need of exercise after his hearty meal, took a walk along the bluff edge as far as the point from which he could inspect the property owned by the Development Company.

He was gone almost an hour.  On his return he met Galusha walking slowly along the lane.  The little man was without his overcoat, his hands were clasped behind him and, although his eyes were open, he seemed to see nothing, for he stumbled and staggered, sometimes in the road and sometimes in the dead weeds and briars beside it.  He did not see his cousin, either, until the latter spoke.  Then he looked up and nodded recognition.

“Oh!” he observed.  “Yes, of course.  Ah—­ How do you do?”

Cabot was looking him straight in the face.

“Loosh,” he asked, sharply.  “What is it?  What is the matter?”

Galusha passed his hand across his forehead.

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” he answered.

“Nonsense!  You look as if—­ Well, you can’t tell me nothing is wrong.  Isn’t there something wrong?”

The saddest smile in all creation passed across Galusha’s face.  “Why—­why, yes,” he said.  “I suppose everything is wrong.  I should have expected it to be, of course.  I—­I did, but—­ah—­for a little while I was—­ah—­foolish and—­and hoped.  It is quite all right, Cousin Gussie, absolutely so.  She said it was—­ah—­ impossible.  Of course it is.  She is quite right.  Oh, quite.”