III-XVII

He felt strangely lost in the sudden emptiness
of his existence, an existence that,
only a few hours before, had welcomed
the prospect of release from, its bewildering fullness.
He had gathered the results of his slowly-formulating
consciousness, his tragic memory, to a final resolve
in the return of the options to a county enhanced
by the coming of a railroad whose benefits he
would distribute to all. And now the railroad was
no more than a myth, it had vanished into thin, false
air, carrying with it...

He swept his hand through the papers of his vain
endeavor, bringing a sudden confusion upon their
order. His arm struck the glass of shot, and, for a
short space, there was a continuous sharp patter on
the floor. He rose, and paced from wall to wall, a
bent shape with open, hanging hands and a straggling
grey wisp of hair across his dry, bony forehead.

Footsteps crossed the porch, a knock fell upon the
door, and Gordon responded without raising his
head.

It was Simeon Caley.

[[341]]

p340 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p341w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p342

v?