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 compared with other things—his health and his peace of mind, for instance. He is looking horribly used up.&quot;

The girl glanced over her shoulder at Dick, who was just reëntering the room at Darrow's side.

&quot;Oh, do you think so?&quot; she said. &quot;I should have thought it was his friend who was used up.&quot;

Mrs. Peyton followed the glance with surprise. She had been too preoccupied to notice Darrow, whose crudely modelled face was always of a dull pallour, to which his slow-moving grey eye lent no relief except in rare moments of expansion. Now the face had the fallen lines of a death-mask, in which only the smile he turned on Dick remained alive; and the sight smote her with compunction. Poor Darrow! He did look horribly fagged out: as if he needed care and petting and good food. No one knew exactly how he lived. His rooms,