She hesitated. Well-balanced, sane, wasn’t I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I’m pretty near being one now, and it’s her fault. And since then, he has openly avowed his determination of cutting his master's throat on the slightest inkling of treachery. They left the castle that day for another, packing with them the leftovers of the troupe that followed them from place to place, never asking about the occasional disappearance of one of its unlucky members. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. "What is this?" she wanted to know. I can’t love you. 4.
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