"He's clean given up! What kin I do?"
Then overtook him again, forcing the lantern into his hand,—not without a gulp for breath.
"Here! take this! I like to. It's yours now, Mr. Starke, d' y' understand? Yours. But you'll take care of it, won't you?"
"I do not need anything, my good boy. Let me go."
But Andy held on desperately to his coat.
"Come home. She's there. Maybe I ought not to say it. It's Jane. For God's sake, come to Jane!"
It was so dark that Andy could not see the expression of the man's face when he heard this. Starke did not speak for some minutes; when he did, his voice was firm and conscious, as it had not been before to-night.
"Let go my coat, Andrew; I feel choking. You know my wife, then?"
"Yes, this many a year. She's waited for you. Come home. Come!"
But Starke drew his arm away.