A woman cannot change her soul. ’ A grimace crossed her face. " The poor widow hung her head, and pressed her child closer to her breast. Bodies! Bodies! Horrible things! We are souls. He smothered a laugh. She should leave sooner, but she just could not bear missing the event. In passing, why do we fear death? For our sins? Rather, isn't it the tremendous inherent human curiosity to know what is going to happen to-morrow that causes us to wince at the thought of annihilation? A subconscious resentment against the idea of entering darkness while our neighbour will proceed with his petty affairs as usual? "It's nip and tuck," said the doctor; "but we'll pull him through.
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