Sydney sprang up. ‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over the words. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. And then they disgorged. It heralded you, promised you. Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. Why, Nab, you shake as if you'd got an ague?" he added, turning to the Jew, whose teeth chattered audibly. .
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