"How are you, Mr. Speares?" he asked. His voice was without inflection.
Father Speares spoke with impassioned pity. "What are you doing? You are ill—a ghost—"
Algarcife steadied himself against the bench and said nothing.
"What does it mean? Your wife—where is she?"
Anthony's voice came slowly and without emotion. "I am alone," he answered.
A quick moisture sprang to the older man's eyes. He held out his hand. "Come with me," he said, fervently. "I am alone also. Come to my house."
Algarcife left the bench and took a step from him.
"No," he replied. "I—I am all right."
Then he staggered and would have fallen but for the other's sustaining arm.