“Sit down!” she said.  “Sit down and let me help you!”

Blindly he surrendered to her guiding.  She led him to the bed, and he sank upon it.  She opened his shirt at the throat.  She brought him water.

He could not drink at first, but after repeated effort he succeeded in swallowing a little.  Then at length in a hoarse whisper, scarcely intelligible, he asked for the remedy which he always carried.

She felt in his pockets and found it, all ready for use.  The lightning had begun to die down, and the light within the room was dim.  She turned the lamp higher, moving it so that its ray fell upon Guy.  And in that moment she saw Death in his face. . . .

She felt as if a quiet and very steady Hand had been laid upon her, checking all agitation.  Calmly she bent over the bared arm he thrust forth to her.  Unflinchingly she ran the needle into the white flesh, noting with a detached sort of pity his emaciation.

He put his other arm about her like a frightened, dinging child.  “Stay with me!  Don’t leave me!” he muttered.

“All right,” she made gentle answer.  “Don’t be afraid!”

He leaned against her, shuddering violently, his dark head bowed, his spasmodic breathing painful to hear.  She waited beside him for the relief that seemed so slow in coming.  Kieff’s remedy did not act so quickly now.

Gradually at last the distress began to lessen.  She felt the tension of his crouched body relax, the anguished breathing become less laboured.  He still clung to her, and her hand was on his head though she did not remember putting it there.  The dull echoes of the thunder reverberated far away among the distant hills.  The night was passing.

Out of a deep silence there came Guy’s voice.  “I want—­” he said restlessly—­“I want——­”

She bent over him.  Her arm went round his shoulders.  Somehow she felt as if the furnace of suffering through which he had come had purged away all that was evil.  His weakness cried aloud to her; the rest was forgotten.

He turned his face up to her; and though the stamp of his agony was still upon it, the eyes were pure and free from all taint of passion.

“What do you want?” she asked him softly.

“I’ve been—­horrible to you, Sylvia,” he said, speaking rather jerkily.  “Sometimes I get a devil inside me—­and I don’t know what I’m doing.  I believe it’s Kieff.  I never knew what hell meant till I met him.  He taught me practically everything I know in that line.  He was like an awful rotting disease.  He ruined everyone he came near.  Everything he touched went bad.”  He paused a moment.  Then, with a sudden boyishness, “There, it’s done with, darling,” he said.  “Will you forget it all—­and let me start afresh?  I’ve had such damnable luck always.”

His eyes pleaded with her, yet they held confidence also.  He knew that she would not refuse.