"It was all so—so sudden; and there he was, just as if he had been expecting it all. Oliver, how can they?"
"Why, people will believe anything if they begin early enough."
"And the man seemed to believe it, too—the dying man, I mean. I saw his eyes."
She stopped.
"Well, my dear?"
"Oliver, what do you say to people when they are dying?"
"Say! Why, nothing! What can I say? But I don't think I've ever seen any one die."
"Nor have I till to-day," said the girl, and shivered a little. "The euthanasia people were soon at work."
Oliver took her hand gently.
"My darling, it must have been frightful. Why, you're trembling still."
"No; but listen. . . . You know, if I had had anything to say I could have said it too. They were all just in front of me: I wondered; then I knew I hadn't. I couldn't possibly have talked about Humanity."
"My dear, it's all very sad; but you know it doesn't really matter. It's all over."
"And—and they've just stopped?"
"Why, yes."
Mabel compressed her lips a little; then she sighed. She had an agitated sort of meditation in the train. She knew perfectly that it was sheer nerves; but she could not just yet shake them off. As she had said, it was the first time she had seen death.
"And that priest—that priest doesn't think so?"
"My dear, I'll tell you what he believes. He believes that
