He felt himself once more in danger of fainting.

He was only vaguely conscious of drinking hot milk, poured from a jug by a red-faced and sympathetic woman.

Its restorative effect, however, was immediate and wonderful.

The mist cleared from before his eyes, his brain began to work.

Always in the background the horror and the shame were there, the shame which kept his hand pressed with unnatural strength upon the broken lock of that dressing-case.