"You're right."

"Yes," the rusty voice went on; "I'd as soon die as go on living as
I do. And now I've lost my self-respect. Often wondered how long a
starving man could go without losing his self-respect. Not so very long.
You take my word for that." And without the slightest change in the
monotony of that creaking voice he added:

"Did you read of the murder? Just here. I've been looking at the place."

The words: 'So have I!' leaped up to Laurence's lips; he choked them
down with a sort of terror.

"I wish you better luck," he said. "Goodnight!" and hurried away. A sort
of ghastly laughter was forcing its way up in his throat. Was everyone
talking of the murder he had committed? Even the very scarecrows?




III

There are some natures so constituted that, due to be hung at ten
o'clock, they will play chess at eight. Such men invariably rise.
They make especially good bishops, editors, judges, impresarios, Prime
ministers, money-lenders, and generals; in fact, fill with exceptional
credit any position of power over their fellow-men. They have spiritual
cold storage, in which are preserved their nervous systems. In such men
there is little or none of that fluid sense and continuity of feeling
known under those vague terms, speculation, poetry, philosophy. Men