‘You don’t mind if I sit down?’ She considered him a moment, her head a little on one side. Like appendicitis. We, ourselves, are scarcely the same we were twelve years ago. 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. ” “Damn!” he remarked at the defaced letter; and, taking a fresh sheet, he recopied what he had written. “Do you mean in looks?” she asked. Chairs were overturned.
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