He shook his head, and was off in a moment.
I turned to my rooms and threw myself on my bed.

Poor fellow; was there ever a more piteous case?
Oh the cruel misery of feeling that nothing could save her! And he--he who would give life and wealth and fortune and power to give her back a shade of colour--as much as would tinge a rose-leaf, even a very little rose-leaf--and could not.

Poor fellow! What would he do to-night--to-morrow.

I could see him kneeling by her side and weeping hot tears over the wasted hands.

I could almost hear his smothered sob--his last words of speeding to the parting soul--the picture grew intensely in my thoughts.