He had a narrow escape, however; for, passing within an inch of him, the bullet burried itself deeply in the wall. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. His bodily suffering, however, was nothing compared with his mental anguish. His number was unlisted and unpublished. There was a recurrence of fever, but nothing alarming. ‘Is it worth it?’ he asked at last. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going. She was still fully dressed; so all she had to do was to pause before the mirror and give her hair a few pats. “I missed the hour of your release,” he said, “but I was at the Vindicator Restaurant.
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