"You can please yourself, anyhow." There was no getting anything definite out of the sick man--his soul seemed stuck, as if it would not move.
Suddenly Lilly rose and went to the dressing-table.
"I'm going to rub you with oil," he said.

"I'm going to rub you as mothers do their babies whose bowels don't work." Aaron frowned slightly as he glanced at the dark, self-possessed face of the little man.
"What's the good of that ?" he said irritably.

"I'd rather be left alone." "Then you won't be." Quickly he uncovered the blond lower body of his patient, and began to rub the abdomen with oil, using a slow, rhythmic, circulating motion, a sort of massage.

For a long time he rubbed finely and steadily, then went over the whole of the lower body, mindless, as if in a sort of incantation.

He rubbed every speck of the man's lower body--the abdomen, the buttocks, the thighs and knees, down to the feet, rubbed it all warm and glowing with camphorated oil, every bit of it, chafing the toes swiftly, till he was almost exhausted.