"God knows there were," I answered, my face in my hands; and, my
grief brought home to me, there I sat with it in the presence of
that stranger, without compunction and without shame.

He sprang up and paced the room. His tact made me realize my
weakness, and I was struggling to overcome it when he surprised me
by suddenly stopping and laying a rather tremulous hand upon my
shoulder.

"You - It wouldn't do you any good to speak of those circumstances,
I suppose?" he faltered.

"No: not now: no good at all."

"Forgive me," he said, resuming his walk. "I had no business - I
felt so sorry - I cannot tell you how I sympathize! And yet - I
wonder if you will always feel so?"

"No saying how I shall feel when I am a man again," said I. "You
see what I am at present." And, pulling myself together, I rose to
find my new friend quite agitated in his turn.

"I wish we had some more brandy," he sighed. "I'm afraid it's too
late to get any now."

"And I'm glad of it," said I. "A man in my state ought not to look
at spirits, or he may never look past them again. Thank goodness,
there are other medicines. Only this morning I consulted the best
man on nerves in London. I wish I'd gone to him long ago."