I have certain ideas of my own, but there is no use in stating them, beyond saying perhaps that each recognized in the other--sub-consciously only, since each professed himself utterly unable to sympathize in the smallest degree with the views of the other--a certain fixity of devotion that was the driving-force in each life.

Certainly, on the surface, there are not two theories less unlike than the one which finds the solution of all things in Toxin, and the other which finds it in God.

But perhaps there is a reconciliation somewhere.
* * * * * The Major and Gertie were waiting in the stable-yard when the two other men emerged.

The Major had a large bag of apples--given him by Thomas at the doctor's orders--which he was proceeding to add to Gertie's load at the very moment when the two others came out.

Frank took them, without a word, and slung them over his own back.
The doctor stood blinking a moment in the strong sunshine.
"Well, good-by, my boy," he said.