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She saw his face change, how he regretted. ‘You do not know how I am like my mother. I don’t know if I express myself clearly. She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest. I thank God for His sunlight on your face. 235 “No, I think she’s out sick with a throat infection. She washed her face with unwonted elaboration before she went to bed. And you, Austin; and you Langley, I say the same thing to you. Admire her as much as you choose—at a distance. 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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