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 uncertain still. Zimbule had made no effort to approach him. If my contract had been arranged through her she would have come to gloat, he argued, or she would send for me. Asa final mode of relieving his tortured mind, he determined to make good. If I do satisfactory work in this picture, he reasoned, if I do what I have to do well, it doesn't matter who got me the job. In any case, then, I will be earning my salary. With casuistry of this nature he held daily communication with himself.

Passionately, he wanted to make good for his own sake, for Campaspe's sake, even for Alice's sake. He would show Alice that he could get along on his own. He had to confess to himself, however, that as yet he was not on his own, that in taking this position he had been obliged to make as great a sacrifice of his principles as if he had accepted his father's shameful offer. Principles! He was beginning to wonder if he had any left! And then alleviation came again in the thought that what he was now doing he was doing independently, of his own free will. He had not been tricked and driven into this corner. He had listened to Campaspe's arguments and, with his eyes open, he had walked voluntarily into it. If he succeeded, Alice might never know, perhaps, how the chance had come to him. She might even credit him with initiative in the matter.

As for Campaspe, she was more in his thoughts