Bête, she told herself fiercely. Sheppard, smiling through her tears. '" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. 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. It was partly to pay a grudge he had against father.
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