--"Please, yes."--"Your bathroom's the second door to the left
sir."--He went out with my bath-towel and sponge, leaving me alone with
Braxton.

'I rose to my feet, mustering once more all the strength that was in
me. Hoping against hope, with set teeth and clenched hands, I faced him,
thrust forth my will at him, with everything but words commanded him to
vanish--to cease to be.

'Suddenly, utterly, he vanished. And you can imagine the truly exquisite
sense of triumph that thrilled me and continued to thrill me till I went
into the bathroom and found him in my bath.

'Quivering with rage, I returned to my bedroom. "Intolerable," I heard
myself repeating like a parrot that knew no other word. A bath was just
what I had needed. Could I have lain for a long time basking in very
hot water, and then have sponged myself with cold water, I should have
emerged calm and brave; comparatively so, at any rate. I should have
looked less ghastly, and have had less of a headache, and something of
an appetite, when I went down to breakfast. Also, I shouldn't have been
the very first guest to appear on the scene. There were five or six
round tables, instead of last night's long table. At the further end
of the room the butler and two other servants were lighting the little
lamps under the hot dishes. I didn't like to make myself ridiculous by
running away. On the other hand, was it right for me to begin breakfast
all by myself at one of these round tables? I supposed it was. But
I dreaded to be found eating, alone in that vast room, by the first
downcomer. I sat dallying with dry toast and watching the door. It
occurred to me that Braxton might occur at any moment. Should I be able
to ignore him?

'Some man and wife--a very handsome couple--were the first to appear.
They nodded and said "good morning" when they noticed me on their way to
the hot dishes. I rose--uncomfortably, guiltily--and sat down again. I
rose again when the wife drifted to my table, followed by the husband
with two steaming plates. She asked me if it wasn't a heavenly morning,
and I replied with nervous enthusiasm that it was. She then ate kedgeree
in silence. "You just finishing, what?" the husband asked, looking at
my plate. "Oh, no--no--only just beginning," I assured him, and helped
myself to butter. He then ate kedgeree in silence. He looked like some
splendid bull, and she like some splendid cow, grazing. I envied them
their eupeptic calm. I surmised that