together, the more it stifles the spirit. I would like to catch hold
of some men's bodies and tear them in pieces to get at their souls.'
Val, as he made that cheerful remark, he looked more like a homicidal
maniac than anything I ever saw."

"I suppose you didn't stand up for the doctors?"

"But I did--for our little man. D'you think I wasn't going to say a word
for him?"

"What! you mentioned his name to this chap?"

"Certainly. Why not?"

"I don't know," Valentine said, hesitatingly.

"What objection could there possibly be?"

"None, of course--none. I simply had a quite unreasonable feeling that I
wished you hadn't. That is all."

And then Valentine relapsed into silence, the silence some men keep when
they are needlessly, uselessly irritated. The mention of Marr's name had
effected him oddly. He now felt a perverse desire not to sit, not comply
with the rather impertinent prediction of this dark-featured prophet
whom he had never seen. To carry out this prediction would seem like
an obedience to a stranger, governing, unseen, and at a distance. Why
did this man concern himself in the affairs of those over whom he had
no sovereignty, with whom he had no friendship?