But it's the truth.

I woke up too suddenly.
Allan--Allan--." It sounded as if he were trying to recall some forgotten personality.

"Oh, Allan!" The last was more like a cry.

He fell into the chair by which he had stood.

And now the woman erected herself, coming forward to stand before him, her head bowed, her hands convulsively interlocked.
"Do you see it all, Bernal?
Is it plain now?
Oh, how it tortured me--that last Gratcher--the one we make in our own image and yet make to be perfect.