"I shall probably be round some time soon," he said. "I shall want to
hear how the new drop worked, you know. By the way, what theatre is
Miss Grey appearing at? It might be interesting to go and see the
performance, mightn't it, Joe?"

"Oh, damn it all! I can only think for the moment of poor little
Hilaria," exclaimed Killigrew. "I used to be very fond of her.... I
wonder--"

"I'll find out if she'd like to see you and Ruan when next I go if you
like, but it's painful, because she can only get her words out in
jerks," said Carminow. "It's the Strand that Miss Grey's appearing at.
Quite a small part; but at least it's a lady-like one, and her stage
name is Miss Blanche Nevill. Good-night, you fellows!"

They echoed his farewell, and then, finding no belated growler, set out
to walk all the way back to Tavistock Square. They mentioned neither
Hilaria nor Blanche Grey again that night, but as Ishmael lay for a long
time awake staring into the darkness he could not keep his mind from
reverting with a sense of deep fear to what he had heard about Hilaria.
That such things could lie in wait in life, around the path of people
one knew--people like oneself.... To others these exotic misfortunes,
not to oneself or those near one. He had the sensation of incredulity
with which one hears of some intimate friend involved in a train
accident or attacked by some freakish fate such as may be read of in the
newspapers daily but is never realised as being an actual and possible
happening. Polkinghorne's death had made him believe there was such a
thing as death, but it was so remote. This was different. If these
things could come into life, ordinary every-day life....