“Thank you,” said Tom wearily. “Yes, I am glad.”
And then I grasped the thin brown hand in my own for a moment, and felt it respond faintly to my clasp.
We sat as quietly as before in the cheerful, smoke-filled room, I puffing slightly at my Ajar, and Tom’s sleepless eyes fixed absently on the wall; and then presently I went to the window and watched the dull gray dawn creep over the still sleeping city.
“Well, here’s another day,” I said with a sigh, turning back to the room. “I must go, old fellow.”
There was no reply. Startled, I bent over the chair, and looked in the face, scarcely more ivory-white than before. And then I saw that for Callender there would be no more days.