It was rough food--beans, potatoes, peas, lentils, pork in
barrels-salted pork; but there was bread of the best, rich soup, pork
well boiled and fried, with good tea, freshly made. This was the regular
fare, and men throve on it.
One day, however, shortly after Carnac's return home, there came a change
in the scene. Things had been going badly for a couple of days and the
old man had been seriously overworked. He had not listened to the
warnings of Tarboe, or to the hints thrown out by his own punished
physique. He was not a man to take hints. Everything that vexed his life
roused opposition. This Tarboe knew, but he also knew that the business
must suffer, if the old man suffered.
When John Grier left the office it was with head bowed and mind
depressed. Nothing had happened to cause him grave anxiety, yet he had
been below par for several hours. Why was he working so hard? Why was
life to him such a concentration? Why did he seek for more money and to
get more power? To whom could it go? Not to Fabian; not to his wife. To
Tarboe--well, there was not enough in that! This man had only lately come
into his life, and was only near to him in a business sense. Carnac was
near in every sense that really mattered, and Carnac was out of it all.
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