CHAPTER XXX
He did not go home that day.
Towards late evening he sat in the twilight, his head in his hands, a pile of smoked cigarettes and Bella's Prayer-book on the table before him.... In the wretched afternoon he had read, one after another, the services: Marriage ... for better or for worse, till death do us part.... The Baptismal service, and the Burial for the Dead.
At six he rose with a sigh, and, though it was growing dark, he began to draw aimlessly, and Rainsford, when he came in, found Tony sketching, and the young man said—
"You don't give a fellow much of your company these days, Peter. Have a cigarette? I've smoked a whole box myself."
"I'm glad to see you working, Fairfax."
"You don't know how glad I am," Fairfax exclaimed; "but the light's bad."
Putting aside his drawing-board, he turned to his friend, and, with an ardour such as he had not displayed since the old days at the Delavan, began to tell of his conception.