Something in the last words caught Bunny's attention. He looked at him with sudden shrewdness. "What do you mean, Jake? What's up?"
Jake was silent. He sat moodily smoking and staring into the fire. His chin was sunk on his chest. He looked older than his years.
Bunny on the other side of the hearth gazed at him for several seconds with close attention. Finally he got up, went to him, slipped down on to the arm of his chair.
"What is it, Jake, old feller? Tell me!"
Jake looked up, met the warm sympathy in the boy's eyes, and in a moment thrust a kindly arm about the slim young figure.
"Don't you worry about me, little pard!" he said. "There ain't anything the matter that I can't face out by myself."
"Oh, but that's rot, Jake." Bunny's cheek went down against the man's bronze head and pressed it hard. "What's the good of bottling it up? 'Sides, you know, Jake, I don't count. I'd die before I'd split."
"Guess I know that," Jake said.
He hugged Bunny to him as if there were comfort in mere contact, but he said no more.
Bunny hugged him in return, and after a brief silence began to probe for the enlightenment he desired. "Why do you say Maud is better where she is, Jake? After all, she is your wife and no one else's, isn't she?"