He had counted so much on his future.

Phil got up and began to pace back and forth at the end of the long studio, his hands in his pockets, recalling the days of their old intimacy on the desert.

Scene after scene came up before him, till he felt a tightening of the throat that made him set his teeth together grimly.

Then Joyce sat up and began to talk about him brokenly, with gushes of tears now and then, as one recalls the good traits of those who have passed out of life.
"He was so little when papa died, but he's tried to take his place in every way possible, ever since.

So unselfish and uncomplaining--always taking the brunt of everything! _You_ know how it was, Phil.