’ ‘Remenham House,’ exclaimed Trodger, who had been watching this interchange open-mouthed. Then suddenly her spirit rose in revolt. 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. I hope that some day he'll understand how much he owes you. It seems to me just talk; it seems to me like the fancy of a dream. They are our food, Lucia, nothing more. A fortnight passed, then a month.
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