THE AMERICAN
told me so, you know. You did what you could about it. You said some very good things; I've thought them carefully over. But, my dear friend, I was right, all the same. This is the regular way."
"I didn't do what I ought," said Newman. "I ought to have done something better."
"For instance?"
"Oh, something or other. I ought to have treated you as a vicious small boy and have locked you up."
"Well, I'm a very small boy now," Valentin softly sighed, "and God knows I've been vicious enough! I'm even rather less than an infant. An infant's helpless, but it's generally voted promising. I'm not promising, eh? Society can't lose a less valuable member." Newman was strongly moved. He got up and turned his back on his friend and walked away to the window, where he stood looking out but only vaguely seeing. "No, I don't like the look of your back," Valentin continued. "I've always been an observer of backs; yours is quite out of sorts."
Newman returned to his bedside and begged him to be quiet. "Only rest and get well, give yourself the very best chance. That's what you want and what you must do. Get well and help me."
"I told you you were in trouble! But how can I 'help' you?" Valentin wailed.
"I 'll let you know when you're better. You were always awfully enquiring; there's something to get well for!" Newman answered with resolute animation.
Valentin relapsed once more and lay a long time without speaking. He seemed even to have fallen
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