I cursed in my whimpering, invalid fashion.
"But don't you want to get well?" asked the wide-eyed nurse.
"Certainly not! I thought I was dead, and I was very happy. I've been
tricked and cheated and fooled," and I dashed my fist against the
counterpane.
"If you go on in this way," said the nurse, "you will commit suicide."
"I don't care!" I cried--and then, they tell me, fainted. My temperature
also ran up, and I became lightheaded again. It was not until the next
day that I recovered my sanity. This time Lola was in the room with the
nurse, and after a while the latter left us together. Even Lola could
not understand my paralysing dismay.
"But think of it, my dear friend," she argued, "just think of it. You
are saved--saved by a miracle. The doctor says you will be stronger than
you have ever been before."
"All the more dreadful will it be," said I. "I had finished with life.
I had got through with it. I don't want a second lifetime. One is quite
enough for any sane human being. Why on earth couldn't they have let me
die?"
Lola passed her cool hand over my forehead.
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