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“Come sit with me, beautiful. She could tell that he was leering at her. Disillusion stands in one doorway of our house and Mockery in the other. “Oh. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. I give myself to you. Endless complications ensue when both sisters return to London. . . Perhaps her granddaughter might marry his grandson. 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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