AT SEA VIEW, SUNDERING ON SEA
like tentacles into every corner of his being. A number of doctors were struggling to tear this thing away from him. At every effort the pain increased.
He awoke, but the pain throbbed on.
He lay quite still. Upon the heavy darkness he saw the word "Cancer," bright red and glowing—as pain glows. . . .
He argued in the face of invincible conviction. He kept the mood conditional. "If it be so," he said, though he knew that the thing was so. What should he do? There would have to be operations, great expenses, enfeeblement. . . .
Whom could he ask for advice? Who would help him?. . .
Suppose in the morning he were to take a bathing ticket as if he meant to bathe, and struggle out beyond the mud-flats. He could behave as though cramp had taken him suddenly. . . .
Five minutes of suffocation he would have to force himself through, and then peace—endless peace!
"No," he said, with a sudden gust of courage. "I will fight it out to the end."
But his mind was too dull to form plans and physically he was afraid. He would have to find a doctor somehow, and even that little task appalled him.
Then he would have to tell Mrs. Huss. . . .
For a time he lay quite still as if he listened to the alternative swell and diminuendo of his pain.
"Oh! if I had someone to help me!" he whispered, and was overcome by the lonely misery of his position. "If I had someone!"
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