She was surprised to find how stored her mind was with impressions and memories of him, how vividly she remembered his gestures and little things that he had said. And mind he doesn't stir out of your sight, on any pretence whatever, till I call. 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.
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