For what could I do with him? Nothing--nothing at all. I was bound hand and foot. You cannot turn a two-memoried man out of your house as you can another. You don't get rid of him if you do. He has his own--ubiquity. There is only one of him, and you never know where he isn't. It was not now a question of whether he should marry Julia Oliphant, but whether he was to be suffered to vanish, to be swallowed up in the world of men, a drop in the human ocean that did not merge but still remained a drop, a grain on humanity's shore yet numbered too, an anomaly, a contradiction in nature, a ghost in the flesh, a man among ghosts. For if he was a ghost to us we must be ghosts to him. And ghost does not bring ghost to book for reasons of the flesh. No, he was still Derry, on whom this enormous destiny had alighted. He was not to be judged. Nevertheless he must settle his soul's affairs and eat his breakfast like anybody else. We got through that meal somehow. Julia talked to Derry, and I suppose I also was included, but I have no memory of what it was all about. One vivid little incident, however, I do remember. I learned why the heavy roller on the tennis court had been moved. She had asked Derry whether he could lift it, and for answer he had picked it up and held it above his head, as once he had held her sewing-machine. So she had gloried in him.... But of the rest of the conversation I remember nothing. Breakfast over, I excused myself and left them at the table together. It had occurred to me that I was still as I had returned from the Devil's Punch Bowl, and that I had neither shaved nor bathed. But on my way to my room Mrs Moxon again met me. She was replacing flowers, and she carried a pail of withered ones in her hand. "I beg pardon, sir, but may I ask if you got up in the night?" she asked. "Yes," I answered. "Why?" "Only that I fancied I heard somebody moving about," she said. "Yes. I went into Mr Rose's room. Then I went out for a walk. I'm not sleeping very well, Mrs Moxon. To-night I shall take a draught." She knows my tone. I hope she was satisfied. I passed on to my dressing-room. Three quarters of an hour later I came down again. I found Julia at one of the drawing-room windows, alone and gazing out over the pond. She started at the sound of my voice behind her. "Where's Derry?" I had asked. "Over there by the punt," she replied. I had not noticed him as he had stooped behind the little shelter to untie it. "Is he leaving to-day?" "I don't know." "Are you trying to keep him?" She had turned her back on me again and was once more looking out of the window. "Of course I'm trying to keep him--so far as I may in somebody else's house." "Oh.... Why 'of course?'" "Of course it's of course. Do you think I'm going to take my eyes off him for a single moment? You heard what he said before breakfast." "About walking to London as the quickest way of getting back to that book of his?"