"It's no use—I'm all in," he whispered. "Even if I had the courage to make another fight, there's no strength."
He was silent for several moments. Then a low moan broke from him. "Ten years!" he whispered. "And this is the end!"
BOOK IV
THE SOUL OF WOMAN
CHAPTER I
HELEN CHAMBERS GETS A NEW VIEW OF HER FATHER
The morning light that sunk down the deep air-shaft and directed its dimmed gaze through the window, saw Rogers lying dressed on the couch and David sitting with sunken head at the window, a sleepless night on both their faces. There had been little talk during the crawling hours, save when the Mayor had dropped in near midnight and set walls and furniture trembling with his deep chest-notes of profanity. Even Tom, awed by the overwhelming disaster, moved noiselessly about and spoke only a few whispered monosyllables. The blow was too heavy to be talked of—too heavy for them to think of what should next be done.
Once, however, David, whose personal loss was almost forgotten in his sympathy for Rogers, had spoken of the future. "There is no future," Rogers had said. "In a few days the owners of my buildings will hear about me. They will take the agency from me. I have a few hundred dollars. That will soon go. And then—?"