What are you doing here, Charles?' He was more than ever emaciated; drink, which made others fat and red, seemed towither Sebastian. The brother left us, and I sat by his bed and talked about his illness. 'I was out of my mind for a day or two,' he said. 'I kept thinking I was back in Oxford. You went to my house? Did you like it? Is Kurt still there? I won't ask you if you liked Kurt; no one does. It's funny—I couldn't get on without him, you know.'
