than this passive, meek, miserable waiting. I told Soames that
for the honour of the human race he ought to make some show
of resistance. He asked what the human race had ever done for
him. `Besides,' he said, `can't you understand that I'm in his
power? You saw him touch me, didn't you? There's an end of
it. I've no will. I'm sealed.'

I made a gesture of despair. He went on repeating the word
`sealed.' I began to realise that the wine had clouded his brain.
No wonder! Foodless he had gone into futurity, foodless he still
was. I urged him to eat at any rate some bread. It was
maddening to think that he, who had so much to tell, might tell
nothing. `How was it all,' I asked, `yonder? Come! Tell me
your adventures.'

`They'd make first-rate "copy," wouldn't they?'

`I'm awfully sorry for you, Soames, and I make all possible
allowances; but what earthly right have you to insinuate that I
should make "copy," as you call it, out of you?'

The poor fellow pressed his hands to his forehead. `I don't
know,' he said. `I had some reason, I know.... I'll try to
remember.'

`That's right. Try to remember everything. Eat a little more
bread. What did the reading-room look like?'

`Much as usual,' he at length muttered.