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And since I knew she cared for you, and when I realized that you meant to strike me through her I have paid, heavily.... Yet, if you were honestly in love with her " "Is that any of your damned business?" "She's only a child " "You rat! That's what's coming to you!" "If you say so. But what is coming to her, Drene?" "Continue to guess. But I know you.
It was late in December before Drene opened his eyes in his right senses. He unclosed them languidly, gazed at the footboard of his bed, then, around at the four shabby walls of his room. "Cecile?" he said, distinctly. The girl who had been watching him laid aside her sewing, rose, and bent over him. Suddenly her pale face flushed and one hand flew to her throat. "Dearest?" he said, inquiringly.
"I care enough for you to wish to help you. May I?" "I was not sure you cared enough " "Do you for me?" "Before I say that I do care for you " she began, tremulously "tell me that I have nothing to fear " Neither spoke. Over her shoulder Drene stared at the distant man who stared back at him. Presently his eyes reverted to hers, absently studying the childlike beauty of her.
"Some people think she's rather crazy about you." Drene gazed into space. "But that wouldn't hurt her," added Guilder, in his calm, pleasant voice. "She's a straight little thing white and straight. She could come to no harm through a man like you." Drene continued to stare at space.
"Drene," he said, in a low voice, "don't strike at me through this young girl." Drene began to laugh, unpleasantly. "Are you in love with her?" "Yes.... You know it." Drene said, still laughing: "It's the common rumor. You may imagine it amuses your friends if you have any left." Graylock spoke in a voice that had a ghostly sound in the great room: "Don't harm her, Drene. It is not necessary.
Under all the sleek, smooth, canty phrases of ecclesiastic proverb, precept, axiom, and lore, there is truth worth the sifting out." "You are welcome to think so, Guilder." "You also could come to no other conclusion if you took the trouble to investigate." Drene smiled: "Morals are no more than folk-ways merely mental condition consequent upon custom.
But Drene, in the body, had never stirred from his own chilly room a gaunt, fierce-eyed thing, unkempt, half-clothed, huddled all day in his chair brooding above his bitten nails, or flung starkly across his couch at night staring at the stars through the dirty crust of glass above.
What I believed with all my heart to be sacred yesterday I find a barrier to-day; and push it aside and go on." "Toward what?" "I go on, that's all I know toward sanctuary." "You mean professionally." "In every way ethically spiritually. The gods of yesterday, too, were very real yesterday." "Drene, a man may change and progress on his way toward what never changes. But standards remained fixed.
Had he ever suspected him, Drene, of treachery after he, Graylock, had fulfilled his final part of the bargain. For a long time, now, a fierce curiosity concerning what Graylock was thinking and doing had possessed Drene. What does a man, who is in good physical health, do, when he is at liberty to compute to the very second how many seconds of life remain for him?
"Honey, don't you touch no tea nor coffee dis evening after Dinah goes out ob here an' de bolt am fetched home; jus' make 'tence to drene it down, like, but don't swaller one mortal drop, for dey is gwine to give you a dose of laudamy" nodding sagaciously and peering into the teapot as she interpolated aloud; "sure enough, it is full ob grounds, honey!
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