Page:Henry rideout--The siamese cat.djvu/239

 The pale face, strange and yet well-known, regarded him unchanging, from beneath the light. The tiny voice of Time continued, brisk as a cricket. A sense of monstrous unfairness oppressed him, that on the eve of rejoining Laura this could happen, and for something that he had neither sought nor possessed.

"Past three-quarters," said Borkman. He raised the eloquent cold muzzle. "Feel like saying anything?"

"What's the use?" rejoined Scarlett, angrily. "I gave you my word of honour."

A few seconds of silence followed; then Borkman lowered his hand.

"Wish I had a drink," he grumbled. "Haven't had one since the doctor cut me off. Might as well, though. As you say, what is the use? Damn it, youngster!" he tossed the pistol on the table, nodding vigorously, with an air of disgust—"do you know, I believe you. Wish I