trikes. I step back, t beats a little smoots me in my bed, unlooses tains—no mig, any at all. I ening my ains I to be taken y as she slumbers.
, I unlock my little rait. I close my eyes. I t study your face!—but, once it, I kno do it or lie sleepless and grow ill. I look o her, he said, and feel her madness in you?
Do I?
I put trait ao bring me a tumbler of er. I take a drop of my old medicine—t t ake anotill, my back. My o tingle. Agnes stands and s. doe stuff of dress. One slender collar-bone is marked a delicate blue is
per mig remember—be a bruise.
I feel t last, sour in my stomach.
ts all, I say. Go on.
I o s. ter a little time t groan of macing its gears. I lie and for sleep. It does not come. Instead, my limbs groless and begin to tcoo of it, at ts of my fingers and my toes. I raise my ly: Agnes! S fears to ans last, t up, lie still. trikes. tairs: tlemen are leaving to te chambers.
Per if I do, it is only for a moment. For suddenly I give a start, and am movement. Movement, and ligain t, and training against their frames.
ts mouthing.
t, after all, t is not like any oto it by a calling voice, I rise. I stand at to Agness room until I am sure, from t sake up my lamp and go, on naked feet, to my drao tand at t tion, peer t t I knoime I see not fall of a sill softer. tcilts tohe flame.
Ricless as I; and he lawns of Briar, perhaps hoping for sleep.
Cold tip of te, er tobacco. . to knoure; only te fades, gloe.
once I understand he windows.
ing o my room!—and e fall and crus of it beneats see t. I only door open, feel t of time, s breath.
I step back face: it arted back into to s! do it! to t my ear against tread. tread gro, anot for Mr ay to go to for t.
I take up my lamp and go quickly, quickly: ts of lig time to dress—cannot dress, Agnes to kno not see goockings, garters, slippers, a cloak. My is loose, I try to fasten; bu