I knew instinctively
that he believed himself a doomed man. He said very little about
himself, and I did not ask him much; he talked about my books, and
a good deal about old friends; but all with a sense, I thought, of
detachment, as though he were viewing everything over a sort of
intangible fence. After luncheon, we adjourned to his study and
smoked. He then said a few words about his illness, and added that
it had altered his plans. "I am told," he said, "that I must take a
good long holiday--rather a difficult job for a man who cares a
great deal about his work and very little about anything else;" he
added a few medical details, from which I gathered the nature of
his illness. Then he went on to talk of casual matters; it seemed
to interest him to discuss what had been happening to our school
and college friends; but I knew, without being told, that he wished
me to understand that he did not expect to resume his place in the
world--and indeed I divined, by some dim communication of the
spirit, that he thought my visit was probably a farewell. But he
talked with unabated courage and interest, smiling where he would
in old days have laughed, and speaking of our friends with more
tenderness than was his wont.
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