her and further reduced, nearer and
nearer the process came, towards the last knot which held the human
being in its unity. But this knot was hard and unrelaxed, the will of
the dying man never gave way. He might be dead in nine-tenths, yet the
remaining tenth remained unchanged, till it too was torn apart. With
his will he held the unit of himself firm, but the circle of his power
was ever and ever reduced, it would be reduced to a point at last, then
swept away.

To adhere to life, he must adhere to human relationships, and he caught
at every straw. Winifred, the butler, the nurse, Gudrun, these were the
people who meant all to him, in these last resources. Gerald, in his
father's presence, stiffened with repulsion. It was so, to a less
degree, with all the other children except Winifred. They could not see
anything but the death, when they looked at their father. It was as if
some subterranean dislike overcame them. They could not see the
familiar face, hear the familiar voice. They were overwhelmed by the
antipathy of visible and audible death. Gerald could not breathe in his
father's presence. He must get out at once. And so, in the same way,
the father could not bear the presence of his son. It sent a final
irritation through the soul of the dying man.

The studio was made ready, Gudrun and Winifred moved in. They enjoyed
so much the ordering and the appointing of it. And now they need hardly
be in the house at all. They had their meals in the studio, they lived
there safely. For the house was becoming dreadful. There were two
nurses in white, flitting silently about, like heralds of death. The
father was confined to his bed, there was a come and go of SOTTO-VOCE
sisters and brothers and children.

Winifred was her father's constant visitor. Every morning, after
breakfast, she went into his room when he was washed and propped up in
bed, to spend half an hour with him.

'Are you better, Daddie?' she asked him invariably.

And invariably he answered:

'Yes, I think I'm a little better, pet.'

She held his hand in both her own, lovingly and protectively. And this
was very dear to him.

She ran in again as a rule at lunch time, to tell him the course of
events, and every evening, when the curtains were drawn, and his room
was cosy, she spent a long time with him. Gudrun was gone home,
Winifred was alone in the house: she liked best to be with her father.
They talked and prattled at random, he always as if he