'But would you mind letting me hold your hand?
I feel as if I wanted something to hold on to.

One drops through the dark so.' Torpenhow thrust out a large and hairy paw from the long chair.

Dick clutched it tightly, and in half an hour had fallen asleep.

Torpenhow withdrew his hand, and, stooping over Dick, kissed him lightly on the forehead, as men do sometimes kiss a wounded comrade in the hour of death, to ease his departure.
In the gray dawn Torpenhow heard Dick talking to himself.

He was adrift on the shoreless tides of delirium, speaking very quickly--'It's a pity,--a great pity; but it's helped, and it must be eaten, Master George.