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so young a moribund and with wonder as to how the adversary had made himself known at the moment of the shadowy encounter.

 Like a bat fluttering in from a mythical part came the words of Walther Lent, spoken with so much bitter passivity from the bed in the

squalid Tyrian? Inn, and long since forgotten: "The world as if it were a kind of zoo in which I am nothing but an animal?" I could see again the fine profile, the darkened teeth, the harlequin pyjama in dingy black and a cruel blue; the words I heard were still unfair and still painful.

 Norman stirred, opened his eyes and asked for a glass of orange juice. When it came he took it with the bent straw steadied by the 

nurse's accustomed fingers, and dropped back on the pillow. I wanted to Care, to give a few kindly instructions to the supervisor, and go back to bed. The frustration of attending a patient for whom there was nothing to be done was bitter and tedious. I leafed through the past history, the abstracts of previous hospital