one he admired and liked. He perhaps felt Isaacson's want of sympathy,
even direct hostility. On the other hand, he might have been embarrassed
by a sense of some obscure self-betrayal. Often men talk of uplifting
others just before they fall down themselves. Was he going to embark on
a liaison with this woman whom he pitied? And was he ashamed of the deed
in advance?

A marriage would be such madness! Yet something in Isaacson at this
moment almost wished that Nigel contemplated marriage--his secret
admiration of the virtue in his friend. Such an act would be of a piece
with Nigel's character, whereas a liaison--and yet Nigel was no saint.

Isaacson thought what the world would say, and suddenly he knew the
reality of his affection for Nigel. The idea of the gossip pained,
almost shocked him; of the gossip and bitter truths. A liaison would
bring forth almost disgusted and wholly ironical laughter at the animal
passions of man, as blatantly shown by Nigel. And a marriage? Well, the
verdict on that would be, "Cracky!"

Isaacson's brain could not dispute the fact that there would be justice
in that verdict. Yet who does not secretly love the fighter for lost
causes?

"I shall look after her."

The expression fitted best the cruder, more sordid method of gaining
possession of this woman. And men seem made for falling.

The nargeeleh was finished, but still Isaacson sat there. Whatever
happened, he would never protest to Nigel. The _feu sacré_ in the man