breath--aflame! Nothing! Why, then, this icy clutching at his heart?

The chemist brought the draught.

"Not sleeping, sir?"

"No."

The man's eyes seemed to say: 'Yes! Burning the candle at both ends--I
know!' Odd life, a chemist's; pills and powders all day long, to hold
the machinery of men together! Devilish odd trade!

In going out he caught the reflection of his face in a mirror; it seemed
too good altogether for a man who had committed murder. There was a
sort of brightness underneath, an amiability lurking about its shadows;
how--how could it be the face of a man who had done what he had done?
His head felt lighter now, his feet lighter; he walked rapidly again.

Curious feeling of relief and oppression all at once! Frightful--to long
for company, for talk, for distraction; and--to be afraid of it! The
girl--the girl and Keith were now the only persons who would not give
him that feeling of dread. And, of those two--Keith was not...! Who
could consort with one who was never wrong, a successful, righteous
fellow; a chap built so that he knew nothing about himself, wanted to
know nothing, a chap all solid actions? To be a quicksand swallowing
up one's own resolutions was bad enough! But to be like Keith--all
willpower, marching along, treading down his own feelings and
weaknesses! No! One could not make a comrade of a man like Keith, even
if he were one's brother? The only creature in all the world was the
girl. She alone knew and felt what he was feeling; would put up with him