Only he was
irritated and alarmed by the abiding sense of some surrounding danger,
which stayed with him, which he fought against in vain. His common sense
had not deserted him. On the contrary, it was argumentative, cogent in
explanation and in rebuke. It strove to sneer his distress down with
stinging epithets, and shot arrows of laughter against his aimless
fears. But the combat was, nevertheless, tamely unequal. Common sense
was routed by this enigmatic enemy, and at length Valentine's spirits
became so violently perturbed that he could keep silence no longer.
"Julian," he said, with a pressure of chained alarm in his voice,
"Julian!"
"Yes," Julian replied, tensely.
"Anything wrong with you?"
"No, no. Or with you?"
"Nothing definite."
"What then?"
"I will confess to you that to-night I feel--I feel, well, horribly
afraid."
"Of what?"
"I have no idea. The feeling is totally unreasonable. That gives it an
inexplicable horror."
"Ah! then that is why you joined your left hand with my right five
minutes ago. I wondered why you did it."
"I! Joined hands!"
"Yes."
"I haven't moved my hand."
"My dear Val! How is it holding mine then?"
"Don't be absurd, Julian; my hand is not near yours.
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