One day, with a hint of spring in the air, he reached out a lean hand toward the window near which Jean had placed him, and said:
"Woman, are you here?"
"Jean's gone—erranding." The old mother-word attracted Glenn's attention.
"Eh?" he questioned.
"To the village. I'm waiting until she comes back. Can I do anything for you, sir?"
"No. Is—is it a sunny day?"
"Glorious. The ice is melting now—in the shady places."
"I thought I felt the warmth. 'Tis cold and drear sitting forever in darkness."
"I am sure it must be—terrible."
But Glenn resented pity.