r
double-faced creature's going to win through to now?' He rapped it out
almost bitterly, almost contemptuously.

Lawford hardly heard the question. Before his eyes had suddenly arisen
the peace, the friendly unquestioning stillness, the thunderous lullaby
old as the grave. 'It's only a fancy. It seemed I could begin again.'

'Well, look here,' said Mr Bethany, his whole face suddenly lined and
grey with age. 'You can't. It's the one solitary thing I've got to say,
as I've said it to myself morn, noon, and night these scores of years.
You can't begin again; it's all a delusion and a snare. You say we're
alone. So we are. The world's a dream, a stage, a mirage, a rack, call
it what you will--but YOU don't change, YOU'RE no illusion. There's
no crying off for YOU no ravelling out, no clean leaves. You've got
this--this trouble, this affliction--my dear, dear fellow what shall
I say to tell you how I grieve and groan for you oh yes, and actually
laughed, I confess it, a vile hysterical laughter, to think of it.
You've got this almost intolerable burden to bear; it's come like a
thief in the night; but bear it you must, and ALONE! They say death's a
going to bed; I doubt it; but anyhow life's a long undressing. We came
in puling and naked, and every stitch must come off before we get out
again. We must stand on our feet in all our Rabelaisian nakedness, and
watch the world fade. Well then, and not another word of sense shall you
worm out of my worn-out old brains after today--all I say is, don't give
in! Why, if you stood here now, freed from this devilish disguise, the
old, fat, sluggish fellow that sat and yawned his head off under my eyes
in his pew the Sunday before last, if I know anything about human nature
I'd say it to your face, and a fig for your vanity and resignation--your
last state would be worse than the first. There!'

He bunched up a big white handkerchief and mopped it over his head.
'That's done,' he said, 'and we won't go back. What I want to know now
is what are you going to do? Where are you sleeping? What are you going
to think about? I'll stay--yes, yes, that's what it must be: I must
stay. And I detest strange beds. I'll stay, you SHAN'T be alone. Do you
hear me, Lawford?--you SHAN'T be alone!'

Lawford gazed gravely. 'There is just one little thing I want to ask
you before you go. I've wormed out an extraordinary old French book;
and--just as you say--to pass the time, I've been having a shot at