When he recovered his mental faculties, he would lie there, neutral; they could save him or let him die, as they pleased; and the doctor knew that he would wear himself out forcing his own will to live into this neutrality. “The point is we’re not toys, toys isn’t the word; we’re litter. ” He looked at her with white, set face. “Don’t you understand, Nigel,” she said softly, “that it was precisely for this I have worked so hard.
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