He glanced at Charnock, but the latter’s legs alone stuck out from under the table, and as it was obvious that he could not see, Festing dusted the portrait and put it in his pocket.  By and by Charnock crept out and got upon his feet.  It was dark now, but the glow of the burning paper flickered about the room and touched his face.  His hair was ruffled, his eyes were dull, and his mouth had a slack droop.  Festing felt some pity for the man, though he was also sensible of scornful impatience.  The smell of burned paper disturbed him with its hint of vanished romance.  Putting the lid on the stove, he took the lamp from Charnock’s unsteady hand, and, when he had lighted it, found a brush and set to work.  Presently Charnock made a vague sign of relief as he looked at the swept floor.

“All gone!” he remarked.  “There was something I couldn’t find.  Suppose I burned it, though I don’t remember.”

“There’s nothing left,” said Festing, who felt guilty.  “Why did you destroy the things?”

Charnock sat down and awkwardly lighted his pipe.  “Wanted to begin again with what they call a clean slate.  Besides, the stove’s the best place for bills that bother you.”

“You can’t get rid of the debts by burning the bills.”

“That’s true,” said Charnock with a grin.  “Unfortunately obvious, in fact!  However, I cut up my account book.”

“I don’t see how that would help.”

“My creditors can now amuse themselves by finding out how I stand.”

Festing frowned impatiently.  “A rather childish trick!  It doesn’t strike me as humorous.”

“You’re a disgustingly serious fellow,” Charnock rejoined.  “But you might be a bit sympathetic, because I’ve had a nasty knock.  My creditors have come down on me, and I’m going to be married.”

Festing smiled.  He had some sense of humor, and Charnock’s manner seemed to indicate that he felt he was confronted with two misfortunes.

“You must have known your creditors would pull you up unless you came to terms with them, but one would expect you to please yourself about getting married.”

“I’m not sure your joke’s in good taste,” Charnock answered sullenly.  “But in a way, one thing depended on the other.  Perhaps I oughtn’t to have said so, but I’m upset to-night.  Though I did expect to be pulled up, it was a knock.”

“No doubt.  Are you going to marry Sadie?”

“I am.  Have you any reason to disapprove?”

“Certainly not,” said Festing.  “Sadie’s rather a friend of mine.”

In a sense, this was true.  When Festing first came to the prairie from a mountain construction camp, where he had not seen a woman for twelve months, he had felt Sadie’s charm.  Moreover, he imagined that the girl liked him and consciously used her power, although with a certain reserve and modesty.  For all that, he fought against his inclination and conquered without much effort.  Marriage had not much attraction for him, but if he did marry, he meant to choose a wife of a different type.