THE REMAINS OF TRAGEDY It must have been the shock of thus realizing suddenly how short a time remained in which I should have light which restored my senses.

I know I stared at the dim yellow flicker dully at first, and then with a swift returning consciousness which spurred my brain into activity.

In that instant I hated, despised myself, rebelled at my weakness.

Faith in Claire Mortimer came back to me in a flood of regret.

If she had failed, it was through no fault of hers, and I was no coward to lie there and rot without making a stern fight for life.