“Never?”
“I don’t wish to, now. No, don’t ask me why! I can’t tell you. I am like all the rest—all the rest. The Paris fever is only cured by death. Don’t ask me, Rex; I am content—indeed I am.”
Suddenly a heavy rapping at the door caused Gethryn to spring hurriedly to his feet.
“Rex!”
It was Braith’s voice.
“What!” cried Gethryn, hoarsely.
There was a pause.
“Aren’t you going to let me in?”
“I can’t, old man; I—I’m not just up for company tonight,” stammered Gethryn.
“Company be damned—are you ill?”