"Four years ago, David; ay, and more than that."

"He was a very hard man," David Strong said. "Four years ago I wrote to
him--I had a chance--I wanted a few pounds only, to make a decent
appearance. That was his answer. To me there came none."

"He did what he believed to be right," Joan said. "You disobeyed him in
going away."

"It is true," he answered.

The man began to move about the room, glancing every now and then
towards the door with a certain restlessness. He had come once more
under the influence of the one person who in his earlier life had always
dominated him. She had brought him along, unwilling and feebly
protesting. He began to wonder how he should get away.

"You will stay here, David," she said. "You have not yet seen Cicely."

He shook his head.

"No. I am not fit for the company of respectable people. You do not
know how low I have fallen. I have lost my caste. I live only for one
purpose. When that is accomplished I mean to die."

"That is very foolish talk for a man," she remarked calmly. "I, too,
have a purpose in life, but when it is accomplished I mean to live on,
to live more fully."

He smiled mockingly.