Then through the slender woodwork at his side a whisper filtered, the dumb voice of one whom madness may have in charge.
"It is not to speak you come, it is to kill."
"Justine!" he cried. All the agony of his life he distilled into her name, "Justine!"
"You killed your child before, you shall not kill another now."
VI.
"City Hall!"
The brakemen were shouting the station through the emptiness of the "Elevated."
In the car in which Mistrial sat a drunken sailor lolled, and a pretty girl of the Sixth Avenue type was eating a confection. Above her, on a panel opposite, the advertisement of a cough remedy shone in blue; beyond was a particolored notice of tennis blazers: and, between them, a text from Mark, in black letters, jumped out from a background of white:
"What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?"