"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.
"You look here!" he cried in desperation. "You say that as if I could do
something if I would. I tell you the boy is dear to me past expression.
I would do anything--spend any sum. You have noticed and repeatedly
commented on the young girl with me. It is that child that he wants! He
worships her to adoration, and knowing he can never be anything to her,
he prefers death to life. In God's name, what can I do about it?"
"Barring that missing hand, I never examined a finer man," said the
surgeon, "and she seemed perfectly devoted to him; why cannot he have
her?"
"Why?" echoed McLean. "Why? Well, for many reasons! I told you he was my
son.
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