"Supper time! Why, it's after eight o'clock. Didn't you know it?"
"No-o. No, I guess not. I—I kind of lost run of the time, seems so."
"Haven't you had any supper?"
"No-o. I didn't seem to care about supper, somehow."
"But haven't you eaten anything?"
"No. I did make myself a cup of tea, but twan't what you'd call a success. . . . I forgot to put the tea in it. . . . But it don't make any difference; I ain't hungry—or thirsty, either."
Phillips leaned forward and laid a hand on the older man's shoulder.
"Jed," he said gently, "I know why you're not hungry. Oh, Jed, what in the world made you do it?"
Jed started back so violently that his chair almost upset. He raised a hand with the gesture of one warding off a blow.
"Do?" he gasped. "Do what?"