sed the dose to its highest limit, but tonight she
felt she must increase it. She knew she took a slight risk in doing
so--she remembered the chemist's warning. If sleep came at all, it might
be a sleep without waking. But after all that was but one chance in a
hundred: the action of the drug was incalculable, and the addition of a
few drops to the regular dose would probably do no more than procure for
her the rest she so desperately needed....

She did not, in truth, consider the question very closely--the physical
craving for sleep was her only sustained sensation. Her mind shrank from
the glare of thought as instinctively as eyes contract in a blaze of
light--darkness, darkness was what she must have at any cost. She raised
herself in bed and swallowed the contents of the glass; then she blew out
her candle and lay down.

She lay very still, waiting with a sensuous pleasure for the first
effects of the soporific. She knew in advance what form they would
take--the gradual cessation of the inner throb, the soft approach of
passiveness, as though an invisible hand made magic passes over her in
the darkness. The very slowness and hesitancy of the effect increased its
fascination: it was delicious to lean over and look down into the dim
abysses of unconsciousness. Tonight the drug seemed to work more slowly
than usual: each passionate pulse had to be stilled in turn, and it was
long before she felt them dropping into abeyance, like sentinels falling
asleep at their posts. But gradually the sense of complete subjugation
came over her, and she wondered languidly what had made her feel so
uneasy and excited. She saw now that there was nothing to be excited
about--she had returned to her normal view of life. Tomorrow would not be
so difficult after all: she felt sure that she would have the strength to
meet it. She did not quite remember what it was that she had been afraid
to meet, but the uncertainty no longer troubled her. She had been
unhappy, and now she was happy--she had felt herself alone, and now the
sense of loneliness had vanished.

She stirred once, and turned on her side, and as she did so, she suddenly
understood why she did not feel herself alone. It was odd--but Nettie
Struther's child was lying on her arm: she felt the pressure of its
little head against her shoulder. She did not know how it had come there,
but she felt no great surprise at the fact, only a gentle penetrating
thrill of warmth and pleasur