t he was slipping, with ununderstanding fear. The
phenomenon was beyond her. Though the guests at the hotel surrounded her
with an atmosphere of admiration, Holt's condition began to occupy all
her thoughts. He was thin now to the point of showing bone under his
coat, pale and hectic, generally listless, sometimes wild-eyed. He never
read, played no games, talked to nobody. Indeed nothing remained of him
save the half physical, half emotional power of his passion. Victoria
called in a doctor, but found him vague and shy; beyond cutting down
Holt's cigarettes he prescribed nothing.

Victoria resigned herself to the role of a nurse. At the beginning of
January she noticed that Holt was using a stick to walk. The sight
filled her with dread. She watched him on the Leas, walking slowly,
resting the weight of his body on the staff, stopping now and then to
look at the sea, or worse, at a blank wall. A terrible impression of
weakness emanated from him. He was going down the hill. One morning in
the middle of January, Holt did not get up. When questioned he hardly
answered. She dressed feverishly without his moving, and went out to
find the doctor herself, for she was unconsciously afraid of the
servants' eyes. When she returned with the doctor Holt had not moved;
his head was thrown back, his mouth a little open, his face more waxen
than usual.

'Oh, oh. . . .' Victoria nearly screamed, when Holt opened his eyes. The
doctor threw back the bedclothes and examined his patient. As Victoria
watched him inspecting Holt's mouth, the inside of his eyelids, then his
finger nails, a terror came upon her at these strange rites. She went to
the window and looked out over the sea; it was choppy, grey and foamy
like a river in spate. She strove to concentrate on her freedom, but she
could feel the figure on the bed.

'Got any sal volatile?' said the doctor's voice.

'No, shall I. . . .?'

'No, no time for that, he's fainting; get me some salts, ammonia,
anything.'

Victoria watched him forcing Holt to breathe the ammonia she used to
clean ribbons. Holt opened his eyes, coughed, struggled; tears ran down
his face as he inhaled the acrid fumes. Still he did not speak. The
doctor pulled him out of bed, crossed his legs, and then struck him
sharply across the shin, just under the knee, with the side of his hand.
Holt's leg hardly moved. The doctor hesitated for a moment, then pushed
him back into the bed.

'I . . . Mrs. . . .?'

'H