forever--and in plain sight of those three hideous vulgarians, all
belonging to my enemy, Gorgett! Ah, the horror of it--what _horror_!"

Farwell wrung his hands and sat, gulping as if he were sick, without
speaking for several moments.

"What terms did the man he sent offer from Gorgett?" I asked.

"_No_ terms! He said to go ahead and print my story about the closet;
it was a matter of perfect indifference to him; that he meant to print
this about me in their damnable party-organ tomorrow, in any event,
and only warned me so that I should have time to prepare Miss Buskirk.
Of course he don't care! _I'll_ be ruined, that's all. Oh, the
hideous injustice of it, the unreason! Don't you see the frightful
irony of it? The best thing in my life, the widest and deepest; my
friendship with a good woman becomes a joke and a horror! Don't you
see that the personal scandal about me absolutely undermines me and
nullifies the political scandal of the closet affair? Gorgett will
come in again and the Grand Jury would laugh at any attack on him. I'm
ruined for good, for good and all, for good and all!"

"Have you told Miss Buskirk?"

He uttered a kind of a shriek. "_No!_ I can't! How could I? What do
you think I'm made of? And there's her father--and all her relatives,
and mine, and my wife--my wife! If she leaves me--"

A fit of nausea seemed to overcome him and he struggled with it,
shivering. "My God! Do you think I can _face_ it? I've come to you for
help in the most wretched hour of my life--all darkness, darkness!