Stunned by his sudden and dreadful metamorphosis, her ears ringing with his disjointed incoherencies, she rose, scarcely knowing what she was doing, scarcely conscious that he was beside her, moving lightly and in silence out into the brilliant darkness of the streets.
It was only at her own door that he spoke again: standing there on the shabby steps of her boarding-house, the light from the transom yellowing his ghastly face.
"Something snapped"—he passed an unsteady hand across his eyes;— "I care very deeply for you. I—they'll make over to you—what I have. You can study on it—live on it, modestly—"
"W-what is the matter? Are you ill?" she stammered, white and frightened.
But he only muttered that she had her warning and that she should keep away from him, and that it would not be lo
