"It _was_ a clever thing, a tremendously clever thing, for a man to think
of saying. There's so much humour in it. To a man who happened to be
already feeling that way, one can see just how it would cheer him up,
give him courage, brace him to take a fresh hold."

Jennings grunted. "Oh, well; if you're going to take every joke with such
deadly seriousness--"

"You took it lightly, did you? It's seemed like a real joke to you? It's
grown funnier and funnier every day, each time it caught your eye?"

But now Jennings groaned. "No, it hasn't. But that's because it's too
true to keep on seeming funny."

Brown suddenly brought his fist down on the arm of Jennings's rocker
with a thump which made his nerve-strung visitor jump in his chair. "It
_isn't_ true! It's not the saying of a brave man, it's the whine of a
coward. Brave men don't say that sort of thing. The sort of thing they do
say--sometimes to other men, oftener to themselves alone--is what a
famous Englishman said: '_If you do fight, fight it out; and don't give
in while you can stand and see_!' How's that for a motto? If that had
been tacked on the wall in your office all this while, would it have made
you feel like giving up, every time you looked at it?"

Brown's eyes were glowing. Jennings had slumped down in his chair, his
head on his hand, his face partly hidden from his host. There was silence
in the room.

Brown kept Jennings overnight, making a bed for him on his couch, where
he could see the fire. As Jennings sat on the couch, ready to turn in,