“Cheer up, old man!”
He laughed bitterly. “Twenty years! I might have had sons and daughters grown up by now. Perhaps even grandchildren like Solonge. How strange it seems! What a failure it’s all been! And now it’s too late. I’m a weary unloved old man.”
“Oh, rot,” I said. “Look here, be sensible. Why don’t you and Frosine hitch up? There’s a fine, home-loving woman, and she thinks you’re a little tin god.”
“How d’ye know that?” he demanded, eagerly.
“Isn’t she always saying so to my wife?” (This was a little exaggeration on my part.) “I tell you, Helstern, that woman adores you. Just think how different that unkempt studio of yours would be with such a bright soul to cheer it.”
“I’ve a good mind to ask her.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Well, to give you the truth, old man, I’ve been trying to, but I haven’t the courage. I’ve got the frame of a lion, Madden, with the heart of a mouse.”
“I’ll tell you what. If I go down and speak for you will you go through it?”
“Yes, I will; but—there’s no hurry, you know. To-morrow....”