about the earth," rejoined he. "And I suspect the fact isn't due to the
gentleness of man with woman, either. Don't fret for the ladies, Tetlow.
They know how to take care of themselves. They know how to milk with a
sure and a steady hand. You may find it out by depressing experience
some day."

Tetlow saw the aim. His obstinate, wretched expression came back. "I
don't care. I've got----"

"You went over that ground," interrupted Norman impatiently. "You'd
better be catching the train."

As Tetlow withdrew, he rang for an office boy and sent him to summon
Miss Hallowell.

Norman had been reasoning with himself--with the aid of the self that
was both better and more worldly wise. He felt that his wrestlings had
not been wholly futile. He believed he had got the strength to face the
girl with a respectful mind, with a mind resolute in duty--if not
love--toward Josephine Burroughs. "I _love_ Josephine," he said to
himself. "My feeling for this girl is some sort of physical attraction.
I certainly shall be able to control it enough to keep it within myself.
And soon it will die out. No doubt I've felt much the same thing as
strongly before. But it didn't take hold because I was never bound
before--never had the sense of the necessity for restraint. That sense
is always highly dangerous for my sort of man."

This sounded well. He eyed the entering girl coldly, said in a voice
that struck him as excellent indifference, "Bring your machine in here,
Miss Hallowell, and recopy these papers. I've made some changes. If you