in Douglas' attitude and thinking. Reverdy was equally unable to state
the case against Douglas, which he felt a keener critic of thought would
easily do. Meanwhile young Lamborn stood with us while we fumbled these
doubtful things. He seemed reluctant to leave. I wondered in a vague way
what kept him from going. What did he want?

And when Douglas did come to see me, which was within a few days of the
night of the debate, Lamborn came with him. It was in the afternoon and
they were on their way to a country dance. I could not help but observe
that Lamborn had been drinking. What a strange taste--this whisky
drinking! We did it in England, to be sure. But here it was done
everywhere and at all hours and in all degrees of immoderation and
vulgarity. Lamborn, however, was not unduly under the influence of
drink; he was rather laughing and genial and humorously familiar.
Douglas had doubtless taken as much as Lamborn, but he was quite equal
to resisting its relaxing effects.

Douglas and I sat under a tree by the brook. The buds were coming out.
There was the balmy warmth of spring in the air. I had a chance now to
revise my first impressions of him. His charm could not be denied. His
frankness, the quickness of his thought, his intellectual power, his
vitality, his capacity for work, the tirelessness of his energies, were
manifested in his speech, his movements, the clear and rapid glances of
his eyes.

At the same time I found angles to him. I sensed a ruthlessness in him.
I saw him as a fearless and sleepless antagonist, but always open and
fair. There was only once when his nature broke ground and revealed
something of his inner self, something of a sensitiveness which suffers
for subtler things and penetrates to finer understandings. This was when