“Oh—she’ll suffer,” Wyant murmured. “ Of course the hypodermics can be increased.”
“Just what did Dr. Garford say this morning?”
“He is astonished at her strength.”
“But there’s no hope?—I don’t know why I ask!”
“Hope?” Wyant looked at her. “You mean of what’s called recovery—of deferring death indefinitely?”
She nodded.
“How can Garford tell—or any one? We all know there have been cases where such injury to the cord has not caused death. This may be one of those cases; but the biggest man couldn’t say now.”
Justine hid her eyes. “What a fate!”
“Recovery? Yes. Keeping people alive in such cases is one of the refinements of cruelty that it was left for Christianity to invent.”
“And yet—?”
“And yet—it’s got to be! Science herself says so—not for the patient, of course; but for herself—for unborn generations, rather. Queer, isn’t it? The two creeds are at one.”
Justine murmured through her clasped hands: “I wish she were not so strong"
“Yes; it’s wonderful what those frail petted bodies can stand. The fight is going to be a hard one.”
She rose with a shiver. “I must go to Cicely"
[ 402 ]
