"Not for life and death?" roared the sick man.
"I suppose you could for life and death," said Hunter,—with a little caution.
"For his own death he could," said Edith. "But it's the death of other people that he is thinking of now."
"And you, what are you thinking of?"
"To tell the truth, just at this moment I was thinking of yours. You are here under our keeping, and as long as you remain so, we are bound to do what we can to keep you from killing yourself; you ought to be in your bed."
"Tucked up all round,—and you ought to be giving me gruel." Then Hunter simpered and went away. He generally did go away when the love-scenes began.
"You could give one something which would cure me instantly."
"No, I could not! There are no such instant cures known in the medical world for a man who has had a hole right through him."
"That bullet will certainly be immortal."
"But you will not if you talk of going up to Dublin."