present. There may be all kinds of reasons. You will have to be
patient, Desire."

"Then," in a low voice, "it isn't only indolence?"

He was moved to candor. "It isn't indolence at all. I have always
been a fairly good worker, and will be again. But the driving force
has shifted. I have not been doing good work and I know it. The more
I know it the worse the work will become. . . . It doesn't matter,
really, child," he added gently, seeing that she had turned away.
"The world can wait for the bit of knowledge I can give it."

Desire, whose face was invisible, took a moment to answer this. When
she did her voice was carefully with-out expression.

"Then this ends my usefulness. You will not need me any more."

The professor, who had been nursing his knee on the corner of the
desk, straightened up so suddenly that he heard his spine click.

"What's this?" he said. (Good heavens--the girl was as full of
surprises as a grab-bag!)

"It was for the book you needed me, was it not? That was my share of
our partnership."

("Now you've done it!" shouted an exultant voice in the professor's
brain. "Oh, you are an ass!")

"Shut up!" said Spence irritably. "I wasn't talking to you," he