They will sound odd in this room."
"Very odd," the doctor said.
"We ought to sit reviewing our past year," Valentine went on.
"Our past year and all it has done for us."
"Do you think it has done much for you, Addison?" the doctor asked. And,
despite his intention, there was a certain significance in his tone.
Julian looked rather grave and moody, yet excited too, like a man who
might burst into either gaiety or anger at a moment's notice.
"I suppose it has," he answered. "Yes, more than any year since I was
quite a boy."
"It has taught you how to live," Valentine said quickly.
"Or how to--die," the doctor could not resist saying.
"Why do you say that, doctor?" Valentine asked sharply. "Julian is
neither sick nor sad; are you, Julian?"
"Oh, I don't know. Don't bother about me."
But Valentine seemed suddenly determined that Julian should state in
precise terms his contentment with his present fate.
"You are making your grand tour towards happiness," he exclaimed.
"Dessert, _caf? noir_--then the cigarette and contentment."
"I have had the _caf? noir_," Julian said, indicating his empty cup,
which Wade had by accident omitted to clear away. "I have had the
cigarette."
"Well. What then? Are you unhappy?"
"I tell you I don't know.
Pages:
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661