"I don't know."
"Then do you look to-morrow. That's white as snow. And your beard's grey."
"It's certainly too long," said Carlton, covering half with his hand.
"And your hand—your hand!"
It was scarred and horny as the mason's own. Carlton removed it from the light, but said nothing.
"That's done its last day's work alone," cried Tom. "I start with you to-morrow, whether you want me or not. I'll show 'em! I'll show 'em!"
And he stood nodding savagely to himself.
"My dear fellow, you can't behave like that."
The words fell softly after a long silence.
"Why can't I?"