The times in which we live have changed and we with them, my friend.

Nos mulamur in illis, as the tag goes." We went on talking--or rather he talked and I listened.

Now and again he would help himself to a drink or a cigarette, and I marvelled at the clear assurance with which he performed the various little operations.
I, lying in bed, lost all sense of pain, almost of personality.

My little ailments, my little selfish love of Betty, my little humdrum life itself dwindled insignificant before the tragic intensity of this strange, curse-ridden being.
And all the tune we had not spoken of Betty--except the Betty of long ago.

It was I, finally, who gave him the lead.
"And Betty ?" said I.
He held out his hand in a gesture that was almost piteous.
"I could tear her from my life.