“Did you ever try to guess”—
“Guess what, Richling?”
“His use of my life.”
“Why, yes, my poor boy, I have tried. But I only make out its use to me.”
The sick man’s eye brightened.
“Has it been?”
The Doctor nodded. He reached out and took the wasted hand in his. It tried to answer his pressure. The invalid spoke.
“I’m glad you told me that before—before it was too late.”
“Are you, my dear boy? Shall I tell you more?”
“Yes,” the sick man huskily replied; “oh, yes.”