She wondered at the steadiness of her own hand as she put it to the white, unconscious lips.

They were rigidly closed, and for a few moments she thought her task was hopeless.

Then very slowly they parted.

She slipped the spoon between.
The silence in the room was deathly, the heat intense, heavy, pall-like.

Outside, the rain fell monotonously, and, mingling with its beating, she heard the croaking of innumerable frogs.