She had deliberately set herself to get information from him on a topic in which she happened to be specially interested and she had got it, laughing the while at his youthful crudities--his vanity, his transparent cunning, his absurd airs.

She had not liked him; she had even distrusted him, and decided that he was not 'nice'.

But now, as he lay on the stretcher, these things were forgotten.

She went so far as to reproach herself for them.
Such is the strange commanding power of death.
'Oblige me by taking the poor fellow to my apartments,' said the Prince, with a gesture to the attendants.

'Surely it is time the doctor came.' Racksole felt suddenly at that moment he was nothing but a mere hotel proprietor with an awkward affair on his hands.