“Young miss is bad, very bad. She wants blood, and blood she must have or die. My friend John and I have consulted; and we are about to perform what we call transfusion of blood⁠—to transfer from full veins of one to the empty veins which pine for him. John was to give his blood, as he is the more young and strong than me”⁠—here Arthur took my hand and wrung it hard in silence⁠—“but, now you are here, you are more good than us, old or young, who toil much in the world of thought. Our nerves are not so calm and our blood not so bright than yours!” Arthur turned to him and said:⁠—

“If you only knew how gladly I would die for her you would understand⁠—”

He stopped, with a sort of choke in his voice.