's eyes.

"Crowther," he said, "I've behaved like a cur. I--broke that promise I
made to you."

He ground out the words savagely, between clenched teeth. Yet his look
was defiant still. He held himself as a man defying shame.

Crowther's eyes never varied. They looked straight back with a wide
kindliness greater than compassion, wholly devoid of reproach.

"All right, Piers," he said simply.

Piers stared at him for a moment as one in blank amazement, then very
strangely his face altered. The hardness went from it like a mask
suddenly rent away. He made an inarticulate sound and turned from the
open window.

A second later he was sunk in Crowther's chair with his head in his
hands, sobbing convulsively, painfully, uncontrollably, in an agony that
tore like a living thing at the very foundations of his being.

A smaller man than Crowther might have been at a loss to deal with such
distress, but Crowther was ready. He had seen men in extremities of
suffering before. He knew how to ease a crushing burden. He sat down on
the arm of the chair and thrust a strong hand over Piers' shoulder,
saying no word.

Minutes passed ere by sheer violence that bitter anguish wore itself out
at last. There came a long, piteous silence, then Piers' hand feeling
blindly upwards. Crowther's grip encompassed it like a band of iron, but
still for a space no word was spoken.

Then haltingly Piers found his voice. "I'm sorry--beastly sorry--to have
made such an ass of myself. You're jolly decent to me, Crowther."

To which Crowther made reply with a tenderness as simple as his own soul.
"You're just a son to me, lad."

"A precious poor specimen!" muttered Piers.

He remained bowed for a while longer, then lifted at length a face of
awful whiteness and leaned back upon Crowther's arm, still fast holding
to his hand.

"You know, you're such an awfully good chap," he said, "that one gets
into the way of taking you for granted. But I won't encroach on your
goodness much longer. You're busy, what?" He smiled a quivering smile,
and glanced momentarily towards the littered table.

"It will keep," said Crowther quietly.

"No, it won't. Life isn't long enough. On my soul, do you know it's like
coming into sanctuary to enter a place like this? I feel as if I'd shut
my own particular devil on the other side of the door. But he'll wait for
me all right. We shan't lose each other on that account."

He uttered a laugh that testified more to