“That note of suspicion—­” said Howard.

“Ugh!” said Graham.  “Now, mark my words, it will be ill for those who have put me here.  It will be ill.  I am alive.  Make no doubt of it, I am alive.  Every day my pulse is stronger and my mind clearer and more vigorous.  No more quiescence.  I am a man come back to life.  And I want to live—­”

“Live!”

Howard’s face lit with an idea.  He came towards Graham and spoke in an easy confidential tone.

“The Council secludes you here for your good.  You are restless.  Naturally—­an energetic man!  You find it dull here.  But we are anxious that everything you may desire—­every desire—­every sort of desire ...  There may be something.  Is there any sort of company?”

He paused meaningly.

“Yes,” said Graham thoughtfully.  “There is.”

“Ah! Now!  We have treated you neglectfully.”

“The crowds in yonder streets of yours.”

“That,” said Howard, “I am afraid—­But—­”

Graham began pacing the room.  Howard stood near the door watching him.  The implication of Howard’s suggestion was only half evident to Graham.  Company?  Suppose he were to accept the proposal, demand some sort of company?  Would there be any possibilities of gathering from the conversation of this additional person some vague inkling of the struggle that had broken out so vividly at his waking moment?  He meditated again, and the suggestion took colour.  He turned on Howard abruptly.

“What do you mean by company?”

Howard raised his eyes and shrugged his shoulders.  “Human beings,” he said, with a curious smile on his heavy face.  “Our social ideas,” he said, “have a certain increased liberality, perhaps, in comparison with your times.  If a man wishes to relieve such a tedium as this—­by feminine society, for instance.  We think it no scandal.  We have cleared our minds of formulae.  There is in our city a class, a necessary class, no longer despised—­discreet—­”

Graham stopped dead.

“It would pass the time,” said Howard.  “It is a thing I should perhaps have thought of before, but, as a matter of fact, so much is happening—­”

He indicated the exterior world.

Graham hesitated.  For a moment the figure of a possible woman dominated his mind with an intense attraction.  Then he flashed into anger.

“No!” he shouted.

He began striding rapidly up and down the room.  “Everything you say, everything you do, convinces me—­of some great issue in which I am concerned.  I do not want to pass the time, as you call it.  Yes, I know.  Desire and indulgence are life in a sense—­and Death!  Extinction!  In my life before I slept I had worked out that pitiful question.  I will not begin again.  There is a city, a multitude—.  And meanwhile I am here like a rabbit in a bag.”

His rage surged high.  He choked for a moment and began to wave his clenched fists.  He gave way to an anger fit, he swore archaic curses.  His gestures had the quality of physical threats.