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De La Croisa closed the door softly and lighted the candles in the great silver branches. As the crocus flames grow up one by one, so did the expression on Sherringborne's face stand out all the more white and ghastly. After all, it seemed to de la Croisa that his was the better part and the more noble portion. He had lost all, or nearly all, that men in his class value. His ambition lay buried underneath the roots of his beloved roses. Yet, all the same, his sympathy for Sherringborne was deep and sincere. His voice trembled a little as he laid his hand upon his friend's shoulder.
"This is very bad, my dear old comrade," he said. "Tell me all about it.