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. “No, stay, Lucy. No one spoke, and she was impelled to flounder on. It would be too mortifying. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. It would not have been for her an anomaly to read a love story in which there were no kisses.
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