"Ay, quite," said Jason. "No one to think twice what becomes of me. Nobody to trouble whether I am here or in a better place. Nobody to care whether I live or die."
He tried to laugh as he said this, but in spite of his brave show of unconcern his deep voice broke and his strong face quivered.
"But what's your own name?" he said abruptly.
"Call me—brother," said Michael Sunlocks.
"To your work," cried the warders, and they were hustled out.
Their work for the day was delving sulphur from the banks of the solfataras and loading it on the backs of the ponies. And while their warders [dozed] in the heat of the noonday sun, they wiped their brows and rested.
At that moment Jason's eyes turned towards the hospital on the opposite side of the hill, and he remembered what he had heard of the good woman who had been nurse there. This much at least he knew of her, that she was the wife of his yoke-fellow, and he was about to speak of her trouble and dishonor when Michael Sunlocks said,
"After all, you are luckiest to be alone in the world. To have ties of affection is only to be the more unhappy."
"That's true," said Jason.
"Say you love somebody, and all your heart is full of her? You lose her, and then where are you?"