The retort slipped out. The impudent challenge had to be met. The
Professor did not realize how contemptuously he spoke.

The womanish weakness in Hutchings sprang to hurried attack.

"At any rate you've no cause for reproach. I resigned chiefly to shield
you. I told you long ago that I didn't want particularly to be Mayor,
and the assault upon your position in the University decided me. There
was no way to save your place except by giving Gulmore the victory he
wanted. You're engaged to May, and May is fond of you: I'm not rich, and
a post of three thousand dollars a year is not often to be found by a
young man. What would you do if you were dismissed? I had to--sacrifice
myself. Not that it matters much, but I've got myself into a fuss with
the party, injured myself all round on your account, and then you talk
as if you had some reason to be offended. That's hardly right,
Professor." The lawyer was satisfied with his case; his concluding
phrase built a bridge for a magnanimous reconciliation.

"You wish me to believe that you resigned at the last moment without
telling me of your intention in order to further my interests?" Mr.
Hutchings was disagreeably shocked by the disdainful, incredulous
question; Roberts was harder to blind than he had supposed; his
indignation became more than half sincere.

"I didn't make up my mind till the last minute--I couldn't. It wasn't
easy for me to leave the party I've fought with for ten years. And the
consequences don't seem likely to be pleasant to me. But that doesn't
signify. This discussion is useless. If you'll take my advice you'll
think of answering the charge that will be brought against you in the