“Yes. It is to save him. I shall not shrink.”
“Then I depend upon you.”
Busy minutes followed, with the patient lying perfectly unconscious.
“How long could he be kept like this, Michael?” whispered Cornel, whose face looked very white.
“As long as you wished—comparatively. Don’t talk; you hinder me.”
“As long as I liked,” thought Cornel, with her eyes dilating as she gazed at the patient, with the little syringe in her hand, and the stoppered bottle, from which the fluid was taken, close by—“as long as I liked, and he as if quite dead. What an awful power to hold within one’s grasp!”