There was something so genuine and manly in the tones of his voice, he compelled the Doctor's respect. A smaller man might have sneered. The healer of souls and bodies had come to recognize with unerring instinct the true and false note in the human voice.
His heart went out in a wave of sympathy for the lonely, miserable young animal who stood before him now, trembling with the first sharp pains of the immortal thing that had awaked within. He slipped his arm about Jim's shoulders and whispered:
“I'll tell you something that may help you when the way gets dark—the wife is going to bear you a child.”
“No!”
“Yes.”
“God!—— That's great, ain't it?”
Jim choked into silence and looked up at the Doctor with dimmed eyes.
“Say, Doc, you hit me hard when you brought what she said—but that's good news! Watch me work my hands to the bone—you know it's my kid and she can't keep me from workin' for it if she tries now can she?”
“No.”
“There's just one thing that'll hang over me like a black cloud,” he mused sorrowfully.