ashamed of yourself? You ought to be. I'm furious with you. Do you know
that?"

"Don't care--a damn," said Tommy, and forced his quivering lips to a
smile.

"You will presently, you--puppy!" said Monck witheringly. "You're more
bother than you're worth. Come on, Ralston! Give him another dose!
Tommy, you hang on, or I'll know the reason why! There, you little ass!
What's the matter with you?"

For Tommy's smile had crumpled into an expression of woe in spite of
him. He turned his face into Monck's shoulder, piteously striving to
hide his weakness.

"Feel--so beastly--bad," he whispered.

"All right, old fellow, all right! I know." Monck's hand was on his
head, soothing, caressing, comforting. "Stick to it like a Briton! We'll
pull you round. Think I don't understand? What? But you've got to do
your bit, you know. You've got to be game. And here's your sister
waiting to lend a hand, come all the way to this filthy hole on purpose.
You are not going to let her see you go under. Come, Tommy lad!"

The tears overflowed down Stella's cheeks. She dared not show herself.
But, fortunately for her, Tommy did not desire it. Monck's words took
effect upon him, and he made a trembling effort to pull himself
together.

"Don't let her see me--like this!" he murmured. "I'll be better