"I want to say a word to you about your wife. I don't think she's very well."
"Molly?" answered his companion calmly. "She's all right. She has a mighty fine constitution, and I never heard her complain. When did you see her, Rainsford?" He frowned.
"Saturday, when you were in New York. You forgot to send your pass-book, and I went for it myself."
"Well?" queried Antony. "What then?"
"Mrs. Fairfax gave me the book, and I stopped to speak with her for a few moments. I find her very much changed."
The light died from the young man's illumined face where his visions had kindled a sacred fire. The realities of life blotted it out.
"I'm not able to give Molly any distractions, that you know."
"She doesn't want them, Tony." Rainsford looked kindly and affectionately, almost tenderly, at him, and repeated gently: "She doesn't want amusement, Tony."
And Fairfax threw up his head with a sort of despair on his face—
"My God, Rainsford," he murmured, "what can I do?"