When he recovered his mental faculties, he would lie there, neutral; they could save him or let him die, as they pleased; and the doctor knew that he would wear himself out forcing his own will to live into this neutrality. He thought of her and himself, and no longer in that vein of incidental adventure in which he had begun. “I’ve been following you for many years. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. Why should I?” “At last,” he murmured, “at last I have found you.
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