Wayward drew his hand from hers and, folding his arms, leaned on the parapet inspecting the turbid water through his spectacles.
"There are no fights too desperate to be won," he said. "The thing to do is to finish—still fighting!"
"Jim?"
"Yes."
This time her hand sought his, drew it toward her, and covered it with both of hers.
"Jim," she said tremulously, "there is something—I am horribly afraid—that—perhaps Garry is not fighting."
"Why?" he asked bluntly.
"There was an—an attachment—"
"A what?"
"An unfortunate affair; he was very deeply in love—"