No answer came, but I plainly heard the soft tread of bare feet along the carpet. I got up and lit the gas. Boyde lay apparently sleeping soundly on the floor. I noticed how well-nourished his body looked. _He_, at any rate, had not been starving. Then I moved to the door, found the confession, took it out, and crawled back into bed. From that moment the paper never left me; it was with me when later the doctor allowed me out, and at night it lay under my pillow while I slept. I kept the torn scraps of the cheque and letter with it, and I hid the razor. Boyde never shaved himself in that room again. CHAPTER XVIII The episode, though far from being finished, had a shattering effect upon me. If a friend, so close to me by ties of affection and gratitude, could act like this, how would others, less intimately related, behave? My trust in people was killed. A sense of deep loneliness was added to the other miseries of that bed. Only my books comforted and helped ... they did not fail ... their teachings stood stiff and firm like a steel rod that never bent or shifted, much less broke. Since these notes tell merely the superficial episodes of my early years, further mention of what the books meant to me is unnecessary; enough--more than enough, probably--has already been told to show the background which explains motive and conduct. The main stream of my life, at any rate, ran deeper and ever deeper, its centre of gravity far below anything that could possibly come to me in the ordinary world or outward happenings. Big dreams were in me at white heat, burning, burning ... and all external events were coloured by them. There followed now a more peaceful though short period, during which Boyde behaved well, with kindness and signs of true penitence. Grant warned me this was acting, and that I had been a fool to forgive and let him stay on, but I would not listen, and followed my own principle. I did not trust him, but never let him know it, showing him full confidence, with all the former intimacy and affection. I felt sure this was the right and only way. His attitude to me had something of a dog’s devotion in it. I fully believed he was “running straight” again. I watched him closely, while hiding suspicion carefully away. November drew to a close; Kay sent no more money; the debt to Mrs. Bernstein grew; income became smaller and smaller. I wrote to McCloy, who replied with a brief word that I could come back when I was well again. Before leaving my bed, however, at the end of the month, another incident occurred that shocked me far more than the first.