Stratton shuddered.
“I know you couldn’t help it.”
“No, but it’s going off now fast, and if I could be alone I should soon be right.”
“Doubt it. No good; you must put up with me for a bit.”
He tried to look laughingly in his companion’s eyes, but there was a strong feeling of dread at his heart as he felt that wild thoughts evidently existed in his friend’s brain, and that there was some terrible mischief hatching there.
“Look here, Mal,” he said, mastering his own shrinking by remembrance of how the strong-witted man could often master the brain unhinged; “my impression is that you want change. Suppose you and I take a run. What do you say to Switzerland, and start to-day?”
Stratton shuddered, and a curious, sneering smile dawned on his face.
“Why don’t you ask me to explain my conduct again?” he said fiercely.
“Because I have no right to. You are your own master, and are answerable to yourself.”
“I’ll tell you,” continued Stratton, without heeding his visitor’s words, “it is because you think I am mad.”