But before he could get to the coveted seat he was accosted by Blair Maynard.  Lane winced under Blair’s piercing gaze; and the haggard face of his friend renewed Lane’s deadened pangs.  Lane led Blair to the warm corner, and they sat down.  It had been many weeks since they had seen each other.  Blair talked in one uninterrupted flow for an hour, and so the life of the people Lane had given up was once again open to him.  It was like the scoring of an old wound.  Then Lane told what little there was to tell about himself.  And the things he omitted Blair divined.  After that they sat silent for a while.

“Of course you knew Mel’s boy died,” said Blair, presently.

“Oh—­No!” exclaimed Lane.

“Hadn’t you heard?  I thought—­of course you—....  Yes, he died some time ago.  Croup or flu, I forget.”

“Dead!” whispered Lane, and he leaned forward to cover his face with his hands.  He had seemed so numb to feeling.  But now a storm shook him.

“Dare, it’s better for him—­and Mel too,” said Blair, with a hand going to his friend’s shoulder.  “That idea never occurred to me until day before yesterday when I ran into Mel.  She looked—­Oh, I can’t tell you how.  But I got that strange impression.”

“Did—­did she ask about me?” queried Lane, hoarsely, as he uncovered his face, and sat back.

“She certainly did,” replied Blair, warmly.  “And I lied like a trooper.  I didn’t know where you were or how you were, but I pretended you were O.K.”

“And then—­” asked Lane, breathlessly.

“She said, ‘Tell Daren I must see him.’  I promised and set out to find you.  I was pretty lucky to run into you....  And now, old sport, let me get personal, will you?”

“Go as far as you like,” replied Lane, in muffled voice.

“Well, I think Mel loves you,” went on Blair, in hurried softness.  “I always thought so—­even when we were kids.  And now I know it....  And Lord!  Dare you just ought to see her now.  She’s lovely.  And she’s your wife.”

“What if she is—­both lovely—­and my wife?” queried Lane, bitterly.

“If I were you I’d go to her.  I’d sure let her take care of me....  Dare, the way you’re living is horrible.  I have a home, such as it is.  My room is warm and clean, and I can stay in it.  But you—­Dare, it hurts me to see you—­as you are——­”

“No!” interrupted Lane, passionately.  The temptation Blair suggested was not to be borne.

Lane met Blair the next afternoon at the station, and again on the next.  That established a habit in which both found much comfort and some happiness.  Thereafter they met every day at the same hour.  Often for long they sat silent, each occupied with his own thoughts.  Occasionally Blair would bring a package which contained food he had ransacked from the larder at home.  Together they would fall upon it like two schoolboys.  But what Lane was most grateful for was just Blair’s presence.