"Am I sure?" said Herkimer, furiously. "I say what I mean; you know it."

"Yes, that's true," said Rantoul. He stretched out his hand and drank
his coffee, but without knowing what he did. "Well, that's all of the
past--what might have been."

"But why?"

"Britt, old fellow," said Rantoul at last, speaking as though to
himself, "did you ever have a moment when you suddenly got out of
yourself, looked at yourself and at your life as a spectator?--saw the
strange strings that had pulled you this way and that, and realized what
might have been had you turned one corner at a certain day of your life
instead of another?"

"No, I've gone where I wanted to go," said Herkimer, obstinately.

"You think so. Well, to-night I can see myself for the first time," said
Rantoul. Then he added meditatively, "I have done not one single thing I
wanted to."

"But why--why?"

"You have brought it all back to me," said Rantoul, ignoring this
question. "It hurts. I suppose to-morrow I shall resent it, but to-night
I feel too deeply. There is nothing free about us in this world, Britt.
I profoundly believe that. Everything we do from morning to night is
dictated by the direction of those about us. An enemy, some one in the
open, we can combat and resist; but it is those that are nearest to us