Frank began with an offhand, "Well, how goes it, old man?"
"Fine," answered Bill.
"You're all right, Bill. Your stock is pretty high now at the Club."
But Bill was thinking of other things than compliments, and after a moment's silence, Frank decided that the patient was suffering a good deal, and that he'd better go.
"No, don't go yet, Mulvy," Bill begged, "stay with a fellow a little while."
"Why, you are crying, old man," said Frank, as he looked into his face, "you must be suffering terribly. It takes a lot of pain to make you cry."
"It's not pain," he whispered. "It's something worse."
"O, I know, old fellow. You're thinking about your father and mother. But you're not seriously hurt, the nurse told me. Father Boone has been around to see your folks, and he has made them feel all right."
"It's something worse than that," answered Daly. "If I told you, you'd cut me dead, and so would the other fellows."
"Come now, old chap, you are not yourself. You've nothing to worry over. You're a guy that's got sand."