” “You can’t be killed?” He asked. “He has asked to see some one,” he whispered to the doctor. It was a brief solitude, however. ‘That I do not yet know. She was bathed in turbid water that had already been used. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. ‘Now I see that you are mad indeed. Was there ever such madness?” “I am afraid that I don’t understand,” Ennison answered. He hated to destroy it; but that was the obligation imposed; and he was an honourable man.
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