the confused impressions flutter out, he countenanced a luxury as
unusual as the impulse that had sent him townward the evening
before to bring home the Victrola. Instead of jumping out hastily
so that he might attend to his hungry, bellowing stock, he lay
quietly marshalling the new incidents of his life into a parade
which he ordered to march across the low ceiling.

He could not comprehend what the tornado had been about. There
had been so little on which to base the excitement--so little
that he was puzzled as to what had caused the scene with his
wife. And as he reflected, it seemed highly unlikely to him that
he would ever permit himself to do anything that might jeopardize
his whole life, topple over the structure that decades of work
had built. Why, it was scarcely less than suicidal to let a
stranger come into his heart and maybe weaken his position. He
remembered his last thought before falling asleep. It appeared
unutterably rash, though when hit upon, it had been a decision
that moderated a more extreme action. Now he realized that it was
the very acme of foolishness deliberately to sacrifice half his
fortune, especially the farm itself, to which he had given so
many years of complete concentration. Certainly, if Rose were
ready to be his, he might not hesitate even a second; but this
flower was still to be won by him, and this morning, aware of
what scant grounds he had upon which to venture any forecasts, he
felt as full of doubt as he had been of confidence last night. It
had been a saddening experience, but fortunate, for all that,
inasmuch as nothing serious had come of it, except that he was
greatly sobered. Martin could not understand that mysterious
something which had risen up in his nature and threatened to
wreck a carefully-built life. It was his first meeting with the