ink an invigorating draught. He
was in the grip of a feverish energy. His blood was racing.

His quick steps shook the wretched room. The floor creaked under his
tread. A lamp on the table rattled. The girl watched him nervously. She
put out a hand to check him, but he brushed it aside. His looks, his
movements, frightened her. He seemed to be gazing out beyond the narrow
walls into a space of surging memories, that sported with his reason. He
muttered incoherently, oblivious of her presence. She grew frightened.

"Jim!" she cried sharply.

He started, and stopped, looking at her vacantly.

"My work," he said restlessly. "I must get on with my work. I haven't
done enough ... nearly enough. I must go on building ... go on giving
light."

He let her put a hand on his arm and move him gently back to his chair.
He sat down, and stared at her in a dazed fashion, as one returning to
consciousness.

"Why haven't you gone?" he said heavily. "I asked you to go."

"I'm not going, Jim," she returned. "I can't leave you like this. You're
not fit to be left."

His face darkened again.

"I am perfectly fit to be left," he said hardly. "And I wish to be
alone."

"When you are better, I'll go," she said quietly--"if you want me to."

He made a gesture of impatience.

"I am better now," he said wearily. "I am quite well. I want you to go.
Why do you persist in staying when I want you to go?"

The girl's self-control deserted her. She burst into a storm of weeping.

"I won't go," she sobbed. "I won't go--because you are in trouble--and I
love you. I don't care whether you want me or not. I love you."

He heard her indifferently. Neither her tears nor her passion moved him.

"Don't talk nonsense," he snapped. "Love is nothing to me. I hate the
word. You might as well talk of loving the Monument as me."

"You lifted me up," she cried. "You saved my soul and body. I was lower
than any of the others before you came. You taught me--and I've tried to
learn your lessons. But, oh, if you didn't mean me to love you, you
should have left me where I was."

"You were a good girl," he said, with tired tolerance. "You learnt
well. But I didn't mean you to love me. I don't want you to love me.
What I have done for you was only part of my work--like the others. I
don't want any woman to love me. I tell you, I hate the word. It means
nothing to me. I only want to go on...."

Her sobs ceased. She stood very still. Her face was torn,