Valentine responded readily
to his invitations, asked him out in return, seemed glad to be with him.
The doctor believed he read the reason of this joy in Valentine's anxiety
to prove the depth of Julian's degradation. He had now begun to play
devilishly upon a pathetic stop, and sought every occasion to descant
upon the social ruin that was overtaking Julian, and his deep concern
in the matter. This hypocrisy was so transparent and so offensive that
there were moments when it stank in the doctor's nostrils, and he could
scarcely repress his horror and disgust. Yet to show them would be not
only impolitic, but would only add fuel to the flames of Valentine's pyre
of triumph. So the doctor, too, sought to play his part, and never
wearied in seeking Julian, although his quest was in vain. From Valentine
he gathered that Julian was now dropped even by the gay world; that his
clubs looked askance at him; that men began to shun him, and to whisper
against him.
"The stone is going down in the sea," Valentine said.
"Who threw it into the sea?" the doctor asked. "Tell me that."
Valentine shrugged whimsical shoulders.
"Fate, I suppose," he answered. "Fate is a mischievous boy, and is always
throwing stones.
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