rrow strip of kerb.

The lamp-standards were a little difficult to see, and when I heard Rooum
stop suddenly and draw in his breath sharply, I thought he had walked
into one of them.

"Hurt yourself?" I said.

He walked on without replying; but half a dozen yards farther on he
stopped again. He was listening again. He waited for me to come up.

"I say," he said, in an odd sort of voice, "go a yard or two ahead, will
you?"

"What's the matter?" I asked, as I passed ahead. He didn't answer.

Well, I hadn't been leading for more than a minute before he wanted to
change again. He was breathing very quick and short.

"Why, what ails you?" I demanded, stopping.

"It's all right.... You're not playing any tricks, are you?..."

I saw him pass his hand over his brow.

"Come, get on," I said shortly; and we didn't speak again till we struck
the pavement with the lighted lamps. Then I happened to glance at him.

"Here," I said brusquely, taking him by the sleeve, "you're not well.
We'll call somewhere and get a drink."

"Yes," he said, again wiping his brow. "I say ... did you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"Ah, you didn't ... and, of course, you didn't feel anything...."

"Come, you're shaking."

When presently we came to a brightly lighted public-house or hotel, I saw
that he was shaking even worse than I had thought. The shirt-sleeved
barman noticed it too, and watched us curiously. I made Rooum sit down,
and got him some brandy.

"What was the matter?" I asked, as I held the glass to his lips.

But I could get nothing out of him except that it was "All right--all
right," with his head twitching over his shoulder almost as if he had
touch of the dance. He began to come round a little. He wasn't the kind
of man you'd press for explanations, and presently we set out again.
He walked with me as far as my lodgings, refused to come in, but for all
that lingered at the gate as if loath to leave. I watched him turn the
corner in the rain.

We came home together again the next evening, but by a different way,
quite half a mile longer. He had waited for me a little pertinaciously.
It seemed he wanted to talk about molecules again.

Well, when a man of his age--he'd be near fifty--begins to ask questions,
he's rather worse than a child who wants to know where Heaven is or some
such thing--for you can't put him off as you can the child. Somewhere or
other he'd picked up the word "osmosis," and seemed to have some
glimmerin