Clarke came in and Mackenzie straightened himself and turned to meet him, his hand upon the covering that hid the scar. There was something defiant in the attitude.
Clarke came up and stood on the other side of the bed.
"What do you think of it?" he asked.
"I don't want to think anything about it," Mackenzie answered shortly.
"But his chances?" asked Clarke after a little. "Has he got any show?"
"He's got a damned bad case," said Mackenzie, "and no strength to fight it with. I knew it would be just this way if he ever got it—he'd have it bad! There's nothing half way about him!"
Clarke tapped his foot against the floor and looked down at it..
"How he could have loved some woman," he said.
Mackenzie turned his head slowly and looked at Trevelyan. Once he had seen a look in Trevelyan's eyes— When he spoke it was as if he were thinking aloud. "How he loved some woman!"
Trevelyan moved restlessly and opened his eyes, and looked at Mackenzie and Clarke and then back to Mackenzie. There was nothing in his face that led them to suppose he had heard.