He addressed the strange world about him, the long flat fields, the hard white road, the orange sun.

"That is the last time," he said aloud, "the last weakness." He definitely braced himself to face life.

There would not be much of it--to-morrow he would be arrested: meanwhile there should be no more of these illusions.

There was, for instance, the illusion that the body was following him, bounding grotesquely along the hard road.

He knew that again and again he turned his head to see whether anything were there, and the further the little wood was left behind the nearer did the body seem to be.