He gave her a deep, somber, but very tender smile, and reached for one of the deadly beakers, "To another meeting!" he said as his fingers closed on it.
Suddenly, amazingly, the strident ring of a doorbell sounded, the more surprising since they had all but forgotten the existence of a world about them. Interruption! It meant only the going through once more of all that they had just passed.
"Drink it!" exclaimed Pat impulsively, seizing the remaining beaker.
[29]
Scopolamine for Satan
The glass was struck from Pat's hand, and the water-clear contents streamed into pools and darkening blots over the table and its litter of papers. She stared unseeingly at the mess, without realizing that it was Nick who had dashed the draught from her very lips. She felt neither anger nor relief, but only a numbness, and a sense of anti-climax. Somewhere below the bell was ringing again, and a door was resounding to violent blows, but she only continued her bewildered, questioning gaze.
"I can't let you, Pat!" he muttered, answering her unspoken query.
"But Nick—why?"
"There's somebody at the door, isn't there? Mustn't we find out who?"
"What difference can it make?" she asked wearily.