Martineau, and was not sure that
Sir Richmond heard.
"Those last few days... lost my grip... Always lose my damned grip.
"Ragged them.... Put their backs up....Silly....
"Never.... Never done anything--WELL....
"It's done. Done. Well or ill....
"Done."
His voice sank to the faintest whisper. "Done for ever and ever... and
ever... and ever."
Again he seemed to doze.
Dr. Martineau stood up softly. Something beyond reason told him that
this was certainly a dying man. He was reluctant to go and he had an
absurd desire that someone, someone for whom Sir Richmond cared, should
come and say good-bye to him, and for Sir Richmond to say good-bye to
someone. He hated this lonely launching from the shores of life of
one who had sought intimacy so persistently and vainly. It was
extraordinary--he saw it now for the first time--he loved this man. If
it had been in his power, he would at that moment have anointed him with
kindness.
The doctor found himself standing in front of the untidy writing desk,
littered like a recent battlefield. The photograph of the American girl
drew his eyes. What had happened? Was there not perhaps some word for
her? He turned about as if to enquire of the dying man and found Sir
Richmond's eyes open and regarding him.
Pages:
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270