And all the while the
undercurrent of Dr. Parkman's thought flowed steadily on.
He was thinking that after all there were better things to do with fate
than damn it. If ever a man would seem justified in spending his soul in
the damning of fate, that man, it seemed to him, was the friend beside
him. And while he had done some of it, perhaps a great deal more than any
one knew, it had not been his master-passion. His master-passion had been
to press on--press on to be knew not what--there was the glory of it! It
was easy enough to work toward a goal sighted ahead; but it took a Karl
Hubers to work on through the darkness.
And ah, there was a good time coming! The doctor's sombre face relaxed to
a smile. His own life seemed almost worth living now just because he had
been able to take a hand--yes, and play a few good cards--in this little
game. Those things Karl had shown him today made it seem there was all
the finer joy in bringing him back to the things which were his own. He
had been thrust from out the gates, but he had not sat whimpering outside
the wall.
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