So many things had been accumulating, so many matters had been menacing him, that one cloud more among the dark, ominous masses gathering made no deeper impression than slight surprise.
For a while he stood motionless, hands in his trousers' pockets, head lowered; then, as somebody entered the farther door, he turned instinctively and stepped into a private card room, closing the polished mahogany door.

The door opened a moment later and Delancy Grandcourt walked in.
"Hello," he said briefly.

Dysart, by the window, looked around at him without any expression whatever.
"Have you heard about Klawber ?" asked Delancy.

"They're calling the extra." Dysart looked out of the window.

"That's fast work," he said.
Grandcourt stood for a while in silence, then seated himself, saying: "He ought to have lived and tried to make good." "He couldn't." "He ought to have tried.