His is warm. Life is one thing to you, another thing to him. He
laughs and sings and dances through life, genial, unselfish,
childlike, everybody's friend. You go through life like a
perambulating prayer-wheel, a friend of nobody but the righteous,
and the righteous are those who agree with you as to what is right.
And after all, who shall say? You live like an anchorite. Joe
Garland lives like a good fellow. Who has extracted the most from
life? We are paid to live, you know. When the wages are too meagre
we throw up the job, which is the cause, believe me, of all rational
suicide. Joe Garland would starve to death on the wages you get
from life. You see, he is made differently. So would you starve on
his wages, which are singing, and love--"

"Lust, if you will pardon me," was the interruption.

Dr. Kennedy smiled.

"Love, to you, is a word of four letters and a definition which you
have extracted from the dictionary. But love, real love, dewy and
palpitant and tender, you do not know. If God made you and me, and
men and women, believe me He made love, too. But to come back.
It's about time you quit hounding Joe Garland. It is not worthy of
you, and it is cowardly. The thing for you to do is to reach out
and lend him a hand."

"Why I, any more than you?" the other demanded. "Why don't you
reach him a hand?"

"I have. I'm reaching him a hand now. I'm trying to get you not to
down the Promotion Committee's proposition of sending him away. I