"The man is dying!"
And the tragic sensation of the vigil of the nocturnal world almost overcame him.
"Yes," he said. "Anything else?"
"No."
"What about keys?"
Ingpen gave him another long glance.
"Trousers."
"Where are his clothes?" Edwin asked the nurse, whose lips were ironic.
"Oh! They'll tell you downstairs. You'd better go now."
As he went from the room he could feel Ingpen's glance following him. He raged inwardly against the callousness of the nurse. It seemed monstrous that he should abandon Ingpen for the rest of the night, defenceless, to the cold tyranny of the nurse, whose power over the sufferer was as absolute as that of an eastern monarch, who had never heard of public opinion, over the meanest slave. He could not bear to picture to himself Ingpen and the nurse alone together.