THIS IS ALL
my God! O, my God!' he muttered to himself.
'Well?' said Dr. Holling.
He hated these exhibitions, but he spoke sympathetically.
'I can't die!' stammered Wyatt, 'It—it—it mustn't be.'
'You will find ultimately that you can die,' said Dr. Holling. 'We all shall. If you will persist in working yourself up into this condition of shivering cowar—of nervous panic, you will die rather sooner, or possibly very much sooner, than you otherwise would. Come, man, you may have another ten or a dozen years, if you'll avoid every kind of stress. You're wealthy, have no ambitions, have no hard work, are not passionately attached to anybody. It is highly unlikely that the stress will come upon you from the outside—take care that it does not come from yourself.'
'You're right, you're right. I shall pull myself together,' he said; but he still spoke excitedly. 'I—
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