"I've
had a message--just come through. It's the kiddie--our little chap--he
died--last night."
Nick heard the news in silence. After a moment he stooped forward and
took the paper out of Will's hand, thrusting it away without a glance
into his own pocket. Then he took him by the arm and hoisted him up.
"Come inside!" he said briefly.
Will went with him blindly, too stricken to direct his own movements.
And so he presently found himself crouching forward in a chair staring
at Nick's steady hand mixing whiskey and water in a glass at his
elbow. As Nick held it towards him he burst into sudden, wild speech.
"I've lost her!" he exclaimed harshly. "I've lost her! It was only the
kiddie that bound us together. She never cared a half-penny about
me. I always knew I should never hold her unless we had a child. And
now--and now--"
"Easy!" said Nick. "Easy! Just drink this like a good chap. There's no
sense in letting yourself go."
Will drank submissively, and covered his face. "Oh, man," he whispered
brokenly, "you don't know what it is to be despised by the one being
in the world you worship."
Nick said nothing. His lips twitched a little, that was all.
But when several miserable seconds had dragged away and Will had
not moved, he bent suddenly down and put his arm round the huddled
shoulders.
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