’ A strangled sob escaped her as his thumb dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her wrist. She leaned a little towards him. She sat in deep thought for a moment or two, and then nodding briskly, dipped the pen in the ink again and began to write. “Remember,” he said, “you are not by any means a dying man now, but you’ll never pull through if you don’t husband your strength. Wood, "it may be poisoned. Go to it. Why not? Imagine I’ve had a fit of hysteria—and that I’ve come round. ‘He prayeth best who loveth best—all things both great and small.
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