The Nilghai
entered with a gift,--a piece of red modelling-wax. He fancied that Dick might
find interest in using his hands. Dick poked and patted the stuff for a few
minutes, and, "Is it like anything in the world?" he said drearily. "Take it
away. I may get the touch of the blind in fifty years. Do you know where
Torpenhow has gone?"
The Nilghai knew nothing. "We're staying in his rooms till he comes back. Can
we do anything for you?"
"I'd like to be left alone, please. Don't think I'm ungrateful; but I'm best
alone."
The Nilghai chuckled, and Dick resumed his drowsy brooding and sullen rebellion
against fate. He had long since ceased to think about the work he had done in
the old days, and the desire to do more work had departed from him. He was
exceedingly sorry for himself, and the completeness of his tender grief soothed
him. But his soul and his body cried for Maisie--Maisie who would understand.
His mind pointed out that Maisie, having her own work to do, would not care.
His experience had taught him that when money was exhausted women went away,
and that when a man was knocked out of the race the others trampled on him.
"Then at the least," said Dick, in reply, "she could use me as I used Binat,--
for some sort of a study.
Pages:
1036
1037
1038
1039
1040
1041
1042
1043
1044
1045
1046
1047
1048
1049
1050
1051
1052
1053
1054
1055
1056
1057
1058
1059
1060