Give me no sweet oblivious antidote, no precious poison such as I once prayed for when I feared the loss of love, that it might open to me the gate of forgetfulness, take me softly in unseen arms, and sink with me into the during dark.

No; I will, not calmly, but in utter indifference, await the end.

I do not love thee; but I can eat, and I enjoy my wine, and my rubber of whist--'" She broke into a dreadful laugh.

It was all horribly unnatural! She rose, and in the deepening twilight seemed to draw herself up far beyond her height, then turned, and looked out on the shadowy last of the sunset.

Faber rose also.