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“I had the best,” he said. “Kiss me, my Pretty; oh, kiss me now that it does mean something! Let me dream that I’m going to live, and that you love me.”

He lifted his face, and she kissed him.

“Rupert, you’re not going to die. It can’t be true. It isn’t true. It shan’t be true.”

“It is; but I don’t mind now, except for you. I’m a selfish beast. But this is worth it all, and I have done something great. You told me to.”

“Tell me,” she said, “who was the doctor? Was he really the best?”

“It was Strongitharm,” he said wearily.

She drew a long breath and clasped him closer. Then she pushed him away and sprang to her feet.

“Stand up!” she said. “Let me look at you!”

He stood up, and she caught him by the elbows and stood looking at him. Twice she tried to speak, and twice no voice obeyed; then she said softly, huskily: “Rupert, listen! It’s all a horrid dream. Wake up. Haven’t you seen the papers? Strongitharm went mad several months ago. It was drink. He told all his patients they were going to die of this new disease of his that he’d invented. It’s all