He was awakened by the attendant shaking his arm and crying: "Half-past six, sir." "Huh!" he exclaimed, starting up.

"What about half-past six?
I don't want to get up." "Told me to call you, sir, at half-past six; quarter to seven now." "Oh, all right, very well," answered Vandover.

He turned away his face on the pillow, while a wretched feeling of nausea crept over him; every movement of his head made it ache to bursting.

Behind his temples the blood throbbed and pumped like the knocking of hammers.

His mouth would have been dry but for a thick slime that filled it and that tasted of oil.