he needed, it would be time to take the generous, wide, philosopher view
of life. But not yet. He was still young; he could--and he would!--drink
of the sparkling heady life of the senses, typefied now for him in this
girl. How her loveliness flamed in his blood--flamed as fiercely when he
could not see the actual, tangible charms as when they were radiating
their fire into his eyes and through his skin! First he must live that
glorious life of youth, of nerves aquiver with ecstasy. Also, he must
shut out the things of the intellect--must live in brain as well as in
body the animal life--in brain the life of cunning and strategy. For the
intellectual life would make it impossible to pursue such ignoble
things. First, material success and material happiness. Then, in its own
time, this intellectual life to which such men as Hallowell ever beckon,
from their heights, such men as Norman, deep in the wallow that seems to
them unworthy of them, even as they roll in it.

As soon as there came a convenient pause in Hallowell's talk, Norman
said, "And you devote your whole life to these things?"

Hallowell's countenance lost its fine glow of enthusiasm. "I have to
make a living. I do chemical analyses for doctors and druggists. That
takes most of my time."

"But you can dispatch those things quickly."

Hallowell shook his head. "There's only one way to do things. My clients
trust me. I can't shirk."

Norman smiled. He admired this simplicity. But it amused him, too; in a
world of shirking and shuffling, not to speak of downright dishonesty,
it struck the humorous note of the incongruous. He said: