Monty himself was unkempt and unwashed, his eyes were bloodshot, and he had fallen half across the table with the gesture of a drunken man.

At the sight of him her pity died away.

After all, then, the sobbing they had heard was the maudlin crying of a drunken man.

Yet he was very old, and there was something about the childish, breathless fear with which he was regarding her which made her hesitate.

She lingered instead, and finding him tongue-tied, spoke to him.
"We heard you talking to yourself downstairs," she said, "and we were afraid that you might be in pain." "Ah," he muttered, "That is all, then! There is no one behind you--no one who wants me!" "There is no one in the house," she assured him, "save my mother and myself." He drew a little breath which ended in a sob.