And Ritter’s, too, was very amusing and foreign and discreet; a little rambling room with a number of small tables, with red electric light shades and flowers. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. “And yet in a very few weeks I shall have done with it all. And there's your liver. “We will convince him now to the contrary,” Annabel answered. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity.
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