“Ah, Sergius, but the mischief, the horror of it was that she wasn't ready to go, not a bit ready.”
Sergius suddenly smiled, a straight, glaring smile, over the sparkling champagne that he was lifting to his lips.
“Yes; it's devilish bad for a woman or a—man to be shot into another world before they're prepared,” he said. “It must be—devilish bad.”
“And how can we know that any one is thoroughly prepared?”
Sergius' smile developed into a short laugh.
“It's easier to be certain who isn't than who is,” he said.
The eyes of Anthony fled to the clock face mechanically and returned.
“Death terrified me to-day, Sergius,” he said; “and it struck me that the most awful power that God has given to man is the power of setting death—like a dog—at another man.”
Sergius swallowed all the wine in his glass at a gulp. He was no longer smiling. His hand went up to his left side.