"Trouble?" he repeated, with an empty laugh. "Oh, nothing to speak of—wife and child left me for good, that is all—died, you know——"
"Come and sit down here; you are not yourself," said the girl, peremptorily.
The last of her fear had vanished at sight of his helplessness, and she was feeling that same need for action which had weighed so heavily on Griff a while ago.
He dropped obediently into the armchair.
"When did you last have food?" went on Janet.
"I—I forget. Some time this morning, I believe—just before the child died."
She went off to the pantry without another word, and brought out cold beef and bread. A bottle of whisky was standing on the sideboard, and she poured him out a liberal allowance.
"Now, eat and drink. It was high time you sought some one who could look after you."
Griff shook his head.