I thought I saw the Grey Wolf’s eyes.  
The sun was gone away,
 
Most unendurably gone down,
 
With all delights of day.
 
I cried aloud for light, and all
 
The light was dead and done away,
 
And no one answered to my call.
 
Edward was, perhaps, the person best pleased at the news of Elizabeth’s engagement. He had been, as Mary phrased it, “very much put out.” Put out, in fact, to the point of wondering whether he could possibly nerve himself to tell David that he came too often to the house. He had an affection for David, and he was under an obligation to him, but there were limits—during the last fortnight he had very frequently explained to Mary that there were limits. Whether he would ever have got as far as explaining this to David amongst the mysteries of life. Mary did not take the explanation in what Edward considered at all a proper spirit. She , looked very pretty, talked about good influences, and was much offended when Edward lost his temper. He lost it to the extent of good influences to a place with which they are not usually connected, though the way to it is said to be paved with good intentions. Mary had a temper, too. It took her out of the room with a bang of the door, but she subsequently cried herself sick because Edward had sworn at her.
 
There was a , but Edward was not as as Mary thought he should have been. David became a sore point with both of them, and Edward, at least, was unfeignedly pleased at what he considered a happy solution of the difficulty. He was fond of Elizabeth, but it would certainly be more agreeable to have the whole house at his own disposal. He had always thought that Elizabeth’s little brown room would be the very place for his collections. He fell to estimating the probable cost of the whole wall-space with cabinets.
 
Mary was not quite as pleased as Edward.
 
 
“You know, Liz,” she said, “I am very glad that David should marry. I think he wants a home. But I don’t think you ought to marry him until he’s better. He looks dreadful. And a fortnight’s engagement—I can’t think what people will say—one ought to consider that.”
 
“Oh, Molly, you are too young for the part of Mrs. Grundy,” said Elizabeth, laughing.
 
Mary coloured and said:
 
“It’s all very well, Liz, but people will talk.”
 
“Well, Molly, and if they do? What is there for them to say? It is all very simple, really. No one can help seeing how ill David is, and I think every one would understand my wanting to be with him. People are really quite human and understanding if they are taken the right way.”
 
“But a fortnight,” said Mary, frowning. “Why Liz, you will not be able to get your things!” And she was shocked beyond words when Elizabeth betrayed a complete as to whether she had any new things at all.
 
The wedding was for the 3rd of April, and the days passed. David made the necessary arrangements with a growing sense of detachment. The matter was out of his hands.
 
For a week the new drug gave him sleep, a sleep full of brilliant dreams, strange flashes of light, and bursts of colour. He woke from it with a blinding headache and a sense of strain beyond that induced by . Towards the end of the week he stopped taking the drug. The headache had become unendurable. This state was worse than the last.
 
On the last day of March he came to Elizabeth and told her that their marriage must be .
 
“Ronnie Ellerton is very ill,” he said; “I can’t go away.”
 
“But David, you must——”
 
He shook his head. The of illness was upon him.
 
“I can’t—and I won’t,” he declared. Then, as if realising that he owed her some explanation, he added:
 
“He’s so spoilt. Why are women such fools? He’s never been made to do anything he didn&rsq............