little pettishly perhaps." I should never have gone to the opera."
"All right, I won't." He asked nurse in a low voice, "How much did you give her? "
"A quarter of a grain, the same as before." The bleeding had not left off. Benham straightened me amongst the pillows and fed me with ice.
"I shall give her another quarter," he said abruptly after watching for a few minutes. I smiled gratefully at him. Benham made no comment, but got more hot water. He made the injection carefully enough, but I preferred nurse's manipulation.
"For Margaret?" I asked him.
"Partly," he answered. "You will dream tonight."
"I shall die tonight. I want to die tonight. Give me something to hurry things, be kind. I don't mind dying, but all this!"
"Don't. I can't. Not again. For God's sake don't ask me!" There was more than sympathy in his voice. There was agitation, even tears. "You will get better from this."
"And then worse again, always worse. I want it ended. Give me something."
"Oh! God! I can't bear this. Margaret!"
"Don't call me Margaret. My name is Jane. What is that stuff that criminals take in the dock? Italian poisoners keep it in a ring. I see one now, with pointed beard, melancholy eyes, a great ruby