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’ ‘Don’t be too sure,’ said Miss Froxfield darkly, with a mischievous glance at her betrothed. It had neither succumbed to her nor wrathfully overwhelmed her. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. Clear water gave away to gray as she waded deeper, feeling her slippers on rock. 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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