I never heard the name before--some kind of nervous disease.

I guess Van had been hitting up a pretty rapid gait, and then I suppose he's had a good deal to worry him, too." * * * * * Once more the attack passed off, leaving Vandover exhausted, his nerves all jangling, his health impaired.

Every day he seemed to grow thinner, great brown hollows grew under his eyes, and the skin of his forehead looked blue and tightly drawn.

By degrees a deep gloom overcame him permanently, nothing could interest him, nothing seemed worth while.

Not only were his nerves out of tune, but they were jaded, deadened, slack; they were like harpstrings that had been played upon so long and so violently that now they could no longer vibrate unless swept with a very whirlwind.
As he had foreseen, Vandover had returned again to vice, to the vice that was knitted into him now, fibre for fibre, to the ways of the brute that by degrees was taking entire possession of him.