“Where is he?” Carroll asked, and his voice sounded strange.
“There.”
“How is he?”
“Prospering like the wicked in the psalms. There was one respect in which you showed will and self-control, Arthur—that you didn't shoot him!”
“I was a fool,” said Carroll.
“He wasn't worth hanging for,” said the major, shortly.
“I'd hang five times over if I could get even with him,” said Carroll.
“I don't wonder you feel so.”
“Feel so! You asked me just now how I stood this sort of life. I believe my hate for that man keeps me up like a stimulant. I believe it keeps me up when I see other poor devils that I—”
Suddenly Arms reached out his hand and grasped Carroll's. “Good God! old fellow, I'm sorry for you!” he said. “You are too good for the dogs.”