news of his son's death, 'I knew that I had begotten a mortal being.' Or was it Anaxagoras, as some say, or Xenophon? But that is the pathos of the past; the truth of matters becomes obscured."

He looked very worn and white as he sank into the big armchair.

"He's been through a good deal to-day—for him," thought the young man. "We'll let it wait till to-morrow. I'd better go down for my clothes before the tide gets them."

"Obscured or lost," added Mr. Powell. "And the future holds only one certainty"—