He would work himself into a frenzy of torment and glee combined,
usually collapsing at the end of his harangue. It disgusted him
to think that his health was so good that he might be expected to
live beyond the limit of James Bansemer's imprisonment.

At the end of eighteen months, Jane was coming home. She had written
to Graydon from London, and the newspapers announced the sailing
of the Cables on one of the White Star steamers.

"I am coming home to end all of this idleness," she wrote to him.
"I mean to find pleasure in toil, in doing good, in lifting the
burdens of those who are helpless. You will see how I can work,
Graydon. You will love me more than ever when you see how I can do
so much good for my fellow creatures. I want you to love me more
and more, because I shall love you to the end of my life."

The night before the ship was to arrive Graydon was dining with
the Jack Percivals. There were a dozen in the party--a blase, bored
collection of human beings who had dined out so incessantly that
eating was a punishment. They had come to look upon food as a foe
to comfort and a grievous obstacle in the path of pleasure. Bridge
was just beginning to take hold of them; its grip was tightening
with new coils as each night went by. Nobody thought of dinner; the
thought was of the delay in getting at the game; an instinct that
was not even a thought urged them to abhor the food that had come
into their lives so abundantly.

Night after night they dined out; night after night they toyed with
their forks, ate nothing, drank to hide their yawns, took black