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 of his will until it was inevitable there should come a day of outbreak. A spring in tension does one of two things: it dies, becomes inert, or it breaks its confinements. So it is with a man. If the man be weak, an hour comes at last when the spring of his will loses its strength, becomes lifeless and sodden; if the man be strong, and Angus Burke was strong, there will come a bursting out, a crushing through all restraints, a moment of supreme emotional urge which carries all inhibitions before it…. Vaguely Angus felt some such danger and lived in apprehension of it.

Because of these things, he did not want to accept Myrtle Cuyler’s invitation—did not want to go to a place where he would inevitably be thrown with Lydia—yet the discourtesy of a refusal would be to affront the friendship which Myrtle so persistently tendered…. Even before he replied to her invitation she saw how agitated he was, how shaken—that something was preying upon him and making him unhappy. Evidences of a mental conflict were visible upon his face, so marked as to demand her sympathy.

“You’ll come, won’t you?” she urged, because she did not know what else to say.

“Yes,” Angus nodded. “Thank you.” He tried to smile.

“Angus,” she said, hesitating to touch his