One day, however, shortly after Carnac's return home, there came a change
in the scene. Things had been going badly for a couple of days and the
old man had been seriously overworked. He had not listened to the
warnings of Tarboe, or to the hints thrown out by his own punished
physique. He was not a man to take hints. Everything that vexed his
life roused opposition. This Tarboe knew, but he also knew that the
business must suffer, if the old man suffered.

When John Grier left the office it was with head bowed and mind
depressed. Nothing had happened to cause him grave anxiety, yet he had
been below par for several hours. Why was he working so hard? Why was
life to him such a concentration? Why did he seek for more money and to
get more power? To whom could it go? Not to Fabian; not to his wife.
To Tarboe--well, there was not enough in that! This man had only lately
come into his life, and was only near to him in a business sense. Carnac
was near in every sense that really mattered, and Carnac was out of it
all.

He was not loved, and in his heart of hearts he knew it, but he had had
his own way, and he loved himself. No one seemed to care for him, not
even his wife. How many years was it since they had roomed together?
Yet as he went towards his own home now, he recalled the day they were
married, and for the first time had drawn as near to each other as life
could draw. He had thought her wonderful then, refined, and oh! so rich
in life's gifts. His love had almost throttled her. She was warm and
bountiful and full of temperament. So it went for three years, and then
slowly he drew away from her until at last, returning from the backwoods,
he had gone to another room, and there had stayed. Very occasionally he
had smothered her with affection, but that had passed, until now, middle-