But then it's not because I owe him or because I love him.

It's because of his own soul!...

That splendid, noble old man, who has been so good to every one--who had only one fault, and that love of his son--must he be let go in blinded and insane rage at the failure of his life, the ruin of his son--must he be allowed to kill his own flesh and blood ?...

It would be _murder!_ It would damn dad's soul to everlasting torment.

No! No! I'll not let that be!" "Collie--how about--your own soul ?" whispered Moore, lifting himself as if about to expend a tremendous breath.
"That doesn't matter," she replied.
"Collie--Collie--" he stammered, but could not go on.
Then it seemed to Wade that they both turned to him unconscious of the inevitableness of his relation to this catastrophe, yet looking to him for the spirit, the guidance that became habitual to them.