"Look-a here, are you comin' along of me or not ?" "I can't," said Sandy, weakly.
Ricks shifted his pack, and with never a parting word or a backward look he left his business partner of three months lying by the roadside, and tramped away in the darkness.
Sandy started up to follow him; he tried to call, but he had no strength.

He lay with his face on the road and talked.

He knew there was nobody to listen, but still he kept on, softly talking about microscopes and pink soap, crying out again and again that he couldn't ever speak to a girl like that.
After a long while somebody came.

At first he thought he must have gone back to the land behind the peat-flames, for it was a great black witch who bent over him, and he instinctively felt about in the grass for the tender, soft hand which he used to press against his cheek.

He found instead the hand of the witch herself, and he drew back in terror.
"Fer de Lawd sake, honey, what's de matter wif you ?" asked a kindly voice.