I have been so troubled and so--There," he broke off
again, "let us talk of something else."
He felt that Maurice was studying him carefully.
"Phil, old fellow, you are hysterically incoherent. What's the matter
with you? It can't be all my going off. Can't you come home with me,
and talk it out?"
Ashe shook his head. The more he was touched and moved by the affection
of his friend, the more he shrank from him. This tender comradeship
seemed to him the most subtile of temptations. He feared, moreover,
lest he might reveal to Maurice too much of what was in his heart.
"Not now," he said. "I must go home at once."
"Then I'll walk along with you," rejoined the other. "I do wish you'd
let me help you. You are evidently all played out physically, and half
an eye could see that you've something on your mind. Is it the bishop?"
"That has troubled me a good deal," Ashe returned, feeling a relief in
being able to say this truthfully.
"Well, Phil, if you worry yourself sick over what you can't help, what
strength will you have for the things that you can do? I'm glad it
isn't all my going that has brought you to this, for you look
positively ill.
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