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Updated: June 27, 2025
In that moment Romarin's accident befell him. If its essential nature is related in arbitrary terms, it is that there are no other terms to relate it in. It is a decoded cipher, which can be restored to its cryptic form as Romarin subsequently restored it.
Marsden was already well into his tale... The frightful unction with which he told it appalled Romarin. It was as he had said there was nothing he had not done and did not exult in with a sickening exultation. It had, indeed, ended in diabetes. In the pitiful hunting down of sensation to the last inch he had been fiendishly ingenious and utterly unimaginative.
Romarin found himself suddenly expectant, attentive, and then again curiously satisfied in his memory. Marsden's voice at least had not changed; it was as in the old days a little envious, sarcastic, accepting lower interpretations somewhat willingly, somewhat grudging of better ones.
"There's a man there, by that restaurant door he's waiting for Mr. Romarin tell him tell him tell him Mr. Romarin's had an accident " And he dashed away, leaving the man looking at the silver in his palm. "A cigarette, Loder?" I said, offering my case. For the moment Loder was not smoking; for long enough he had not been talking.
A group of scene-shifters were moving a flat of scenery from a theatre into a tumbril-like cart... And Romarin knew that, past, present, and future, he had seen it all in an instant, and that Marsden stood behind that painted wing. And he knew, too, that he had only to wait until that flat passed and to take Marsden's arm and enter the restaurant, and it would be so.
I've lived, I tell you, every moment! Not a title, not a degree, but I've lived such a life as you never dreamed of !" "Thank God " But suddenly Marsden's voice, which had risen, dropped again. He began to shake with interior chuckles. They were the old, old chuckles, and they filled Romarin with a hatred hardly to be borne.
"Ho ho ho ho!" came the drunken sounds. "It's a long time since M'sieu dined here with his old friend Romarin! Do you remember the last time? Do you remember it? Pif, pan! Two smacks across the table, Romarin oh, you got it in very well! and then, brrrrr! quick!
Marsden was scraping together with the edge of his knife the crumbs of his broken roll. He scraped them into a little square, and then trimmed the corners. Not until the little pile was shaped to his liking did he look surlily up. "Let it rest, Romarin," he said curtly. "Drop it," he added. "Let it alone. If I begin to talk like that, too, we shall only cut one another up.
Clink glasses there and let it alone." Mechanically Romarin clinked; but his bald brow was perplexed. "'Cut one another up?" he repeated. "Yes. Let it alone." "'Cut one another up?" he repeated once more. "You puzzle me entirely." "Well, perhaps I'm altogether wrong. I only wanted to warn you that I've dared a good many things in my time. Now drop it."
So I think I'm strictly fair in pointing that out when you talk about helping me." "Perhaps so, perhaps so," Romarin agreed a little sadly. "It's your tone more than anything else that makes things a little difficult. Believe me, I've no end in my mind except pure friendliness." "No-o-o," said Marsden a long "no" that seemed to deliberate, to examine, and finally to admit. "No. I believe that.
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