It isn't that these old arms ache for them, that this rather tired heart weakens when they cry for God knows what, and modern science says let them _cry_!--it is that, deep in me, Tappan, a heathenish idea persists that what they need more than hygienics and scientific discipline is some of that old-fashioned love--love which rocks them when it is not good for them--love which overfeeds them sometimes so that they yell with old-fashioned colic--love which ventures a bacilli-laden kiss.

Friend, friend--I am very unfit! It will be well for them when I move on.

Only try to love them, Tappan.

And if you ever doubt, kill them with indulgence, rather than with hygiene!" He died of pneumonia a few weeks later.

He had no chance.