" "It's mine, I'll be sworn," rejoined Wood. I thought perhaps you were staying with them, as you did not seem particularly anxious to recognize your old friends. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. "Thanks to you," said the doctor. "I swear it," rejoined Jonathan, readily. In passing, why do we fear death? For our sins? Rather, isn't it the tremendous inherent human curiosity to know what is going to happen to-morrow that causes us to wince at the thought of annihilation? A subconscious resentment against the idea of entering darkness while our neighbour will proceed with his petty affairs as usual? "It's nip and tuck," said the doctor; "but we'll pull him through. “That’s HIM,” said Ann Veronica, in sound, idiomatic English.
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