The visit of death had left him unmoved. Now he had been as close to life in its most intense form, and the effect of it was maddening--a call that seemed to make further waiting worse than death.
He fell asleep at last with a part of the pillow stuffed into his mouth to keep his sobs from being heard in the next room....
XIV
The thing had him by the throat. It was stronger than any power he could bring to bear against it. Fighting it was useless. Resistance meant merely prolonged torture. Surrender meant sleep--and torture of a different kind the next day.
Once more he managed to get hold of the book that had wrought such disastrous change in his entire existence. He read again the chapters bearing directly on his own case. They seemed more convincing than ever. There could be no doubt of his degradation or his doom.
XV
He came running home from some errand one evening not long before Christmas. His mind was more at ease than it had been for a long time. That season of the year rarely failed to bring him a little happiness.
The moment he flung open the kitchen door, he knew that something was wrong, and his heart sank within him.