"No," said Wilmot dejectedly. "I wish it was. And I wish it was my
fault--and yours."




IV


"I've done enough for you more than once," said the legless man; "you're
big enough and strong enough to work, but you're a born loafer."

"I had a job." The speaker, a shabby, unshaven man with a beastly face,
whined dolefully. "And I done right; but I got the sack."

"What was the job and why were you sacked?"

"I got a job as a artist's model. I sits in a chair while the lady makes
a statue out of my face, and then she gives me money, and I goes and
spends it. The third day she gives me more money, and tells me I looks
too well fed and happy to suit her, and sends me away."

The legless man was astonished to learn that his heart was beating with
unaccustomed force and rapidity. "Who was the artist?"

"She's a lady name o' Ferris."

The legless man steeled his face to express nothing. "Ferris," he
commented briefly.