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Book, page 191 / 231 "But why? What is it?" asked McLean hurriedly. "We all dearly love the boy. We have millions among us to do anything that money can accomplish. Why must he die, if those broken bones are not the cause?" "That is what I am going to give you the opportunity to tell me," replied the surgeon. "He need not die from the accident, yet he is dying as fast as his splendid physical condition will permit, and it is because he so evidently prefers death to life. If he were full of hope and ambition to live, my work would be easy. If all of you love him as you prove you do, and there is unlimited means to give him anything he wants, why should he desire death?" "Is he dying?" demanded McLean. "He is," said the surgeon. "He will not live this day out, unless some strong reaction sets in at once. He is so low, that preferring death to life, nature cannot overcome his inertia. If he is to live, he must be made to desire life. Now he undoubtedly wishes for death, and that it come quickly." "Then he must die," said McLean. His broad shoulders shook convulsively. His strong hands opened and closed mechanically. "Does that mean that you know what he desires and cannot, or will not, supply it?" McLean groaned in misery. "It means," he said desperately, "that I know what he wants, but it is as far removed from my power to help him as it would be to give him a star. The thing for which he will die, he can never have." "Then you must prepare for the end very shortly" said the surgeon, turning abruptly away. McLean caught his arm roughly.
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