And suddenly this hatred had flamed like hell-fire, amazing even
himself--that day when, lifted out of his indifference for an
instant by a young girl's gaiety--and with a smile, half-responsive,
on his own unaccustomed lips, he had learned from her in the same
instant, that the man he had almost ceased to remember was honestly
in love with her.

And suddenly he knew that he hated and that he should strike, and
that there could be no comparison in perfection between hatred and
what perhaps was love.

Sometimes, at night, lying on the studio couch, he found himself
still hesitating. Could Graylock be reached after death? Was it
possible? If he broke his word after Graylock was dead could he
still strike and reach him through the woman for whose sake he,
Graylock, was going to step out of things?

That occupied his mind continually, now. Was there anybody who
could tell him about such matters? Did clergymen really know whether
the soul survived? And if it did, and if truly there were a hell,
could a living man add anything to its torments for his enemy's
benefit?

One day the janitor, lingering, ventured to ask Drene whether he was
feeling quite well.

"Yes" said Drene, "I am well."

The janitor spoke of his not eating. And, as Drene said nothing, he
mentioned the fact that Drene had not set foot outside his own