"Ain't got a chance in the world alongside you, Fairfax, and I'd go down and crawl for her. That's how I'm about her, mate." His face broke up.
Fairfax answered quietly, "That's all right, Sanders—that's all right."
The engineer went on: "I want you to clear out and give me my show, Tony. I had one before you turned up in Nut Street."
"Why, I can't do that, Sanders," said Fairfax gently; "you oughtn't to ask a man to do that. Don't you see how it will look to the girl?"
The other man's face whitened; he couldn't believe his ears.
"Why, you don't mean to say...?" he wondered slowly.
The figure under the jasmine vine, the proud form and face of his mother, grew smaller, paler as does the fading landscape when we look back upon it from the hill we have climbed.
"The doctor told me Molly had saved my life," Fairfax said. "They have turned her out of doors in —— Street. Now you must let me make good as far as I can."
The young man's blue eyes rested quietly on the blood-shot eyes of his visitor. Sanders made no direct answer;
he bit his moustache, considered his companion a second, and clapping his hat on his head, tore the door open.