And, after all, a fine clear sky of bright colors is the signal to come out of hiding and rejoice and go on with life. He believes that he is leaving this conscience behind; and I want to watch his disillusion on this particular point. 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 want to be whatever I can to you. Lucy stared out to the busy streets beyond. He cherished her. I WAS talking to him before I saw his name on the card beside the row of microscopes.
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