"Is Florry worse?" asked Marson, with a look of despair on his haggard features.
"No! just the same," replied Judith, placing the candle on the table and sinking into a chair. "Dr. Japix says she will be like she is now for some time—until the crisis comes."
"And then?"
Judith let her head fall on her breast.
"I don't know," she said, in a monotonous voice; "it means either madness or sanity."
"Better she should die."
"Yes, I think so," answered Judith, with terrible calmness. "Poor Florry, she was so bright and happy a few days ago, and now her life is spoilt; she will never be the same again."
"And all through that cursed Melstane."
"Yes!"
There was silence for a few moments, and Marson sank slowly into his chair, shading his worn face with his thin left hand, while the other mechanically busied itself with two pens lying on the table. Judith, with her hands lying loosely clasped on her lap, stared straight in front of her with a thoughtful expression, as if she was engaged in solving some abstruse problem.