Even here, though they had escaped from its absolute thrall, the far-away roar of the city beat upon their ears.

She listened to it for a moment and then pressed her hands to the side of her head.
"Oh, how I hate it!" she moaned.

"The voices, always the voices, calling, threatening, beating you away! Take my hands, Leonard Tavernake,--hold me." He did as she bade him, clumsily, as yet without comprehension.
"You are not well," he muttered.
Her eyes opened and a flash of her old manner returned.

She smiled at him, feebly but derisively.
"You foolish boy!" she cried.

"Can't you see that I am dying?
Hold my hands tightly and watch--watch! Here is one more thing you can see--that you cannot understand." He saw the empty phial slip from her sleeve and fall on to the pavement.
With a cry he sprang up and, carrying her in his arms, rushed out into the road..