He stepped across the room and put his arm in Tom's as he stood, and said,-- "Tom, old boy, what's wrong ?" Tom said nothing, but walked away and leaned against the mantelpiece.
"What is it, Tom?
Are you ill, or in trouble?
You'll tell me, won't you ?" Tom still remained silent, but his flushing face and restless lips showed that the appeal had at least been heard.
"Old boy," continued Charlie, venturing again nearer, "we never used to have secrets.

I'm sure something's the matter.

Mayn't I know what it is?
Very likely I can't help you; but I could try." Tom's lips quivered.

The old influence was fast coming back.

Already in his mind he was picturing himself telling Charlie all and with his help extricating himself from the slough into which he had sunk.