"Good night." "Good night." He went out and started to descend the stairs; but somebody was banging at the lower door, entering clumsily, and in haste.
"Louis!" panted Portlaw, "they say Hamil is dying--" "Damn you," whispered Malcourt fiercely, "will you shut your cursed mouth!" Then slowly he turned, leaden-footed, head hanging, and ascended the stairs once more to the room where his wife had been.

She was standing there, pale as a corpse, struggling into a heavy coat.
"Did you--hear ?" "Yes." He aided her with her coat.
"Do you think you had better go over ?" "Yes, I must go." She was trembling so that he could scarcely get her into the coat.
"Probably," he said, "Portlaw doesn't know what he's talking about....
Shiela, do you want me to go with you--" "No--no! Oh, hurry--" She was crying now; he saw that she was breaking down.
"Wait till I find your shoes.

You can't go that way.

Wait a moment--" "No--no!" He followed her to the stairs, but: "No--no!" she sobbed, pushing him back; "I want him to myself.

Can't they let me have him even when he is dying ?" "You can't go!" he said.
She turned on him quivering, beside herself.
"Not in this condition--for your own sake," he repeated steadily.