After all, he
thought, it would not be difficult to hoodwink a blind man. Ethne
herself had had the same thought and felt much the same relief as Sutch
felt now. The lieutenant, indeed, was so relieved that he found room for
an impulse of pity.
"I was very sorry, Durrance, to hear of your bad luck," he said, as he
drove off up the hill. "I know what it is myself to be suddenly stopped
and put aside just when one is making way and the world is smoothing
itself out, though my wound in the leg is nothing in comparison to your
blindness. I don't talk to you about compensations and patience. That's
the gabble of people who are comfortable and haven't suffered. _We_ know
that for a man who is young and active, and who is doing well in a
career where activity is a necessity, there are no compensations if his
career's suddenly cut short through no fault of his."
"Through no fault of his," repeated Durrance. "I agree with you. It is
only the man whose career is cut short through his own fault who gets
compensations."
Sutch glanced sharply at his companion. Durrance had spoken slowly and
very thoughtfully. Did he mean to refer to Harry Feversham, Sutch
wondered.
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