“I can't, before God, Thomas.”
“Why not?”
Barney raised his right hand and pointed past Thomas. “You—met—Royal Bennet just—now,” he gasped, hoarsely.
Thomas nodded.
“You—saw—his—back?”
“Yes.”
“Well, something like that ails me. I—can't help it—before God.”
“You don't mean—” Thomas said, and stopped, looking at Barney's back.
“I mean that's why I can't—help it.”
“Have you hurt your back?” Thomas asked, in a subdued tone.