perpetually buying fresh outfits of sharp burs. The patient would suffer more pain ... a dentist at his best ought to be more delicately strong and fine than a doctor ... like a fine engraving ... a surgeon working amongst live nerves ... and he would look different himself. It was in him. It was keeping to that, all day, and every day, choosing the best difficult tiresome way in everything that kept that radiance about him when he was quietly at work ... I mustn't stay here thinking these thoughts ... it's that evil thing in me, keeping on and on, always thinking thoughts, nothing getting done ... going through life like--a stuck pig. If I went straight on things would come like that just the same in flashes--bang, bang, in your heart, everything breaking into light just in front of you, making you almost fall off the edge into the expanse coming up before you, flowers and light stretching out. Then you shut it down, letting it go through you with a leap that carries you to the moon--the sun, and makes you bump with life like the little boy bursting out of his too small clothes and go on choking with song to do the next thing deftly. That's right. Perhaps that is what they all _do_? Perhaps that's why they won't stop to remember. Do you realise? Do you realise you're in Brussels? Just _look_ at the white houses there with the bright green trees against them in the light. It's the _air_, the clearness. Sh--If they hear you, they'll put up the rent. They were just Portsmouth and Gosport people, staying in Brussels and fussing about Portsmouth and Gosport and Aunt this and Mr. that.... I shan't realise Brussels and Belgium for years because of that. They hated and killed me because I was like that.... I must be like that ... something comes along, _golden_, and presently there is a thought. I can't be easy till I've said it in my mind, and I'm sad till I have said it somehow ... and sadder when I have said it. But nothing gets done. I must stop thinking, from now, and be fearfully efficient. Then people will understand and like me. They will hate me too, because I shall be absurd, I shan't be really in it. Perhaps I shall. Perhaps I shall get in. The wonder is they don't hate me more. There was a stirring in the chair and a gushing of fresh water into the tumbler. _Why_ do I meet such nice people? One after another. "There" said Mr. Hancock, "I don't think that will trouble you any more. We will make another appointment." Miriam took the appointment book and a card to the chair-side and stayed upstairs to clear up. 5 When she reached the hall Mr. Orly's door was standing wide. Going into the surgery she found the head parlourmaid rapidly wiping instruments with a soiled serviette. "Is it all right, James?" she said vaguely, glancing round the room.