The Death of Michael Fury

Gabriel felt humiliated by the failure of his irony. He tried to keep up his tone of cold interrogation, but his voice when he spoke was humble and indifferent. I suppose you were in love with this Michael Fury, Greta said. And what did he die of so young, Greta? Consumption, was it? I think he died from me, she answered. A vague terror seized Gabriel at this answer as if some impelpable and vindictive being was coming against him. But he shook himself free of it with an effort of reason and continued to caress her hand.