accordingly. If we do good in a small way . . . isn't that a beginning?"
"A striving . . ."
"For later."
"Yes, for later."
"I, I can't even say . . . that I am doing good in a small way."
"Tell me about yourself."
"There is nothing to tell. Thinking, living, seeking . . . always seeking. . . . There has been nothing besides."
"Then do as we do," she laughed, softly. "Do good in a small way . . . as you say that we do."
"I shall try. . . . But I am disheartened. I admire you and I envy you."
"I . . . I am disheartened. I am sometimes quite dejected. I should like to live quietly, with a heap of books around me. I . . . I'm giving it up."
"The struggle?"
"Yes, the struggle to seek and find. Little by little, it has conquered me. Can you understand me? You . . . you have conquered it."
"What have I conquered?"
"You understand."
"You rank that conquest too high. . . . And you, why are you conquered?"
"Because . . . because I have never achieved anything. . . . I may sometimes have found, but never, never achieved. . . . And now I want to rest . . . with a heap of books around me . . . and, if I can, follow your example . . . and do good in a small way."
"I will help you," she said, jesting, very sadly.
They were silent; and between her and him the room was full of bygone things. The furniture was
