he found himself saying, mentally:

"Save me!... I'm helpless!... I'm desperate!... Save me!... Work a
miracle!... Father!... Christ! Christ! Save my daughter!... We have no
one--but--but You!... Work a miracle! Work a miracle!... I'm a thief and
a liar and a traitor--but save me! I might do something yet--something
that might render me--worth salvation--but then--I might not.... Anyhow,
save me!... O God! Father Almighty!... Almighty! That means that You can
do anything!... Even now--You can do--anything!... Save us!... Save us
all!... Christ! Christ! Christ!"

* * * * *

He knew neither when nor how he ceased, any more than when or how he
began. His most clearly defined impression was that of his spirit coming
back from a long way off to take perception of the fact that he was
still standing under the cluster of electric lights and the clock was
striking three. He was breathless, exhausted. His most urgent physic
need was that of air. He strode to the window-door leading out to the
terraced lawn, and, throwing it open, passed out into the darkness.

There was no mist at this height above the Charles. The night was still,
and the moon westering. The light had a glimmering, metallic essence, as
from a cosmic mirror in the firmament. Long shadows of trees and
shrubbery lay across the grass. Clear in the moonlit foreground stood an
elm, the pride of Tory Hill--springing as a single shaft for twice the
measure of a man--springing and spreading there into four giant
branches, each of which sprang and spread higher into eight--so
springing and spreading, springing and spreading still--rounded,
symmetrical, superb--till the long outermost shoots fell pendulous, like