She forgot her vital hatred of the South Seas; she forgot that McClintock's would not differ a jot from the old island she had for ever left behind her; she forgot all the doctor's lessons and warnings. She hoped that he would at long last remember his young male pride. 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. There he stands. "Not so;" answered Wild. I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire.
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