It was warm, the blue tips becoming rosy, the wrist pulse discernible.

Then he bent closer, touched her face, and saw the tremulous eyelids.

He turned back the cover, and held his ear over her heart.

When he straightened, "As God lives, she's got a chance, David!" he exulted in an awed whisper.
The Harvester lifted a graven face, down which the sweat of agony rolled, and his lips parted in a twitching smile.

"Then this is where love beats the doctors, Carey!" he said.
"It is where love has ventured what science dares not.