"Well--no, one doesn't."

"She would have liked a visit from you, and she's very much alone."

"Is she?"

"Are you stopping on much longer in London?"

"Till the twelfth or fifteenth of August."

"She is stopping on, too."

"Mrs. Chepstow! In the dog-days!"

"She doesn't seem to have anywhere special to go to."

"Oh!"

Isaacson opened a book, and laid his hand upon a page. It happened to be
a book on poisons and their treatment. He smoothed the page down
mechanically and kept his hand there.

"I say, Isaacson, you couldn't have the blood-lust?"

"I hope not. I think not."

"I believe you hate it as I do, hate and loathe it with all your soul.
But I've always felt that you think for yourself, and don't care a rap
what the world is thinking. I've looked in to-night to say good-bye, and
to ask you, if you can get the time, just to give an eye to--to Mrs.