noon
It was penetrating into his own veins , too , subtle , indefinable , yet always there now ; and he was sensitive to its presence not only when absorbed in his work but , more or less in his daily life . And it was playing tricks on him , too , as when one morning , absorbed by the eagerness of achievement , and midway in the happiness of his own work , suddenly and unbidden the memory of poor Annan came to him -- the boy 's patient , humorous face bravely confronting failure on the canvas , before him , from which Neville had turned away without a word , because he had no good word to say of it . And Neville , scarcely appreciating the reason for any immediate self-sacrifice , nevertheless had laid aside his brushes as at some unheard command , and had gone straight to Annan 's studio . And there he had spent the whole morning giving the discouraged boy all that was best in him of strength and wisdom and cheerful sympathy , until , by noon , an almost hopeless canvas was saved ; and Annan , going with him to the door , said unsteadily , `` Kelly , that is the kindest thing one man ever did for another , and I 'll never forget it . '' Yes , the _ something _ seemed to have penetrated to his own veins now ; he felt its serene glow mounting when he spent solemn evenings in John Burleson 's room , the big sculptor lying in his morris-chair , sometimes irritable , sometimes morose , but always now wearing the vivid patch of colour on his flat and sunken cheeks . Once John said : `` Why on earth do you waste a perfectly good afternoon dawdling in this place with me ? '' And Neville , for a second , wondered , too ; then he laughed : `` I get all that I give you , John , and more , too .