“It isn’t a case for sorrow,” he replied, after a minute’s thinking, “as it isn’t one for joy.  It’s one purely for acceptance.  When I first knew Evie I was still something of a kid.  It was so all the more because the kid element in me had never had full play.  I was arrogant, and cock-sure and certain of my ability to manipulate the world to suit myself.  That was all Evie saw, and she liked it.  In as far as she had it in her to fall in love with anything, she fell in love with it.”

He took a turn or two across the room, coming back to his stand on the hearth-rug.

“I’ve travelled far since then,” he continued; “I’ve had to travel far.  Evie hasn’t been able to come with me; and that’s all there is to the story.  It isn’t her fault; because when I asked her, I had no intention of taking this particular way.”

“It was I who drove you into that,” she said, with a hint of remorse.

“Yes—­you—­and conscience—­and whatever else I honor most.  I give you the credit first of all, because, if it hadn’t been for you, I shouldn’t have had the moral energy to assert my true self against the false one.  Isn’t it curious that, after having made me Herbert Strange, it should be you who turned me into Norrie Ford again?  It means that you exercise supreme power over me—­a kind of creative power.  You can make of me what you care to.  It’s no wonder that I’ve come to see——­” He paused, in doubt as to how to express himself, while her eyes were fixed on him in troubled questioning.  “It’s no wonder,” he went on again, “that I’ve come to see everything in a truer light—­Evie as well as all the rest of it.”

With a renewed impulse to move about, he strode toward the bay-window, where he stood for a few seconds, looking out and trying to co-ordinate his thoughts.  Wheeling round again, he drew up a small chair close to hers, seating himself sidewise, with his arm resting on the back.  He looked like a man anxious to explain himself.

“You’re blaming me, I think, because I don’t take Evie’s defection more to heart.  Isn’t that so?”

“I’m not blaming you.  I may be a little surprised at it.”

“You wouldn’t be surprised at it, if you knew all I’ve been through.  It’s difficult to explain to you—­”

“There’s no reason why you should try.”

“But I want to try.  I want you to know.  You see,” he pursued, speaking slowly, as if searching for the right words—­“you see, it’s largely a question of progress—­of growth.  Trouble has two stages.  In the first, you think it hard luck that you should have to meet it.  In the second, you see that, having met it, and gone through it, you come out into a region of big experience, where everything is larger and nobler than you thought it was before.  Now, you’d probably think me blatant if I said that I feel myself emerging into—­that.”

“No, I shouldn’t.  As a matter of fact, I know you’re doing it.”