“That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. “I was sent for to go to the Hospital St. The Jew swallowed it at a draught. "You were saying—?" "I started to say something; that is all. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. I wouldn't allow you to be honest even if you could be so,—which I doubt. Gosse sagged under the impact, knocking over the card table, and falling to sit, half stunned, the discharged pistol flying from his slackened grasp. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage.
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