" "Well, take a chair," rejoined Kneebone. " "It's all so big and aloof. "I couldn't bear to see you in it. “Remember,” he said, “you are not by any means a dying man now, but you’ll never pull through if you don’t husband your strength. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. A familiar ache of wanting made itself more insistent in her belly. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son.
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