The bed stood out bleak and chill, with tightly-drawn white sheets. The air smelt of drugs. This was no more the chamber of love, but a torture-chamber. Basil forgot what he had meant to ask the nurse, and went away with tears in his eyes.
It was a long night. No one thought of sleep. Toward morning the doctor came to stay. Teresa, exhausted, dozed for moments at a time, sitting on the couch in the drawing-room, holding Basil's hand; but after a few instants of semi-consciousness her eyes would start open, her pale face flush red, and Basil lifted her up, while she leaned her weight upon him and gasped, her lips tight closed. This went on for hours. … Seeing her exhaustion, Basil once poured out a glass of champagne and begged her to drink it. But Teresa, as the agony seized her again, blazed up for a moment, snatched the glass and flung the champagne in Basil's face and the goblet across the room, where it shivered to pieces.
"Dearest!" he murmured humbly.
Teresa looked at him murderously, then suddenly caught hold of him, and sobbed under her breath. …
The livid dawn brought in a grey morning of storm. They took Teresa away, into the room. Basil was sent out two or three times on hasty errands. He swallowed a cup of coffee, stand-
