She seemed to be asleep.
He stepped softly backwards and forwards at his painting.

Suddenly her small voice wailed: "Don't walk about, Paul." He looked round.

Her eyes, like dark bubbles in her face, were looking at him.
"No, my dear," he said gently.

Another fibre seemed to snap in his heart.
That evening he got all the morphia pills there were, and took them downstairs.

Carefully he crushed them to powder.
"What are you doing ?" said Annie.
"I s'll put 'em in her night milk." Then they both laughed together like two conspiring children.