She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred. 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. While this was passing, Jonathan had ridden back to Marvel to tell him that all was ready, and to give him his last instructions. 47 was no more than a sort of railway compartment on the way to that.
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