I'll be awfully obliged."

Douglas was silent for a moment. The whole panorama of that joyless
youth of his seemed suddenly stretched out before him. He saw himself
as boy, and youth, and man; the village school changed into the
sectarian university, where the great highroad to knowledge was rank
with the weeds of prejudice. He saw himself back again at the
farmhouse, he felt again the vague throbbings of that discontent which
had culminated in a tragedy. He was suddenly white almost to the lips,
a mist seemed to hang about the room, and the cheerful voices of the men
playing pool came to him like a dirge from the far distance. Speedwell,
waiting in vain for his answer, looked at him in surprise.

"Aren't you well, old chap?" he asked. "You look as though you'd seen a
ghost."

Douglas pulled himself together with an effort.

"I'm not quite the thing," he said. "Late, last night, I suppose. I'm
sure it's very good of you to think of me, Speedwell, but I'd rather you
left me out."

"Why?"

"You see I'm really only a novice--quite a beginner, and I don't feel
I've the right to be included."

"That" Speedwell answered, "is our business. You didn't come to us--I
came to you. All you have to do is to answer a few questions, and let
me have that photo."