'I know how it was.

The pain grew intolerable, and he went upstairs for his draught, and then--not having finished his work--he thought he would lie down on the sofa for a little; and so sleep overcame him.

He never meant _this_.

If I thought it, I couldn't live!' 'Undoubtedly you are right,' said Harvey, summoning an accent of conviction.

'I knew him very well, and he was not the man to do that.' 'No?
You are sure of it?
You feel it impossible, Mr.Rolfe ?' 'Quite impossible.