It brought beads of sweat out upon the doctor's tall forehead; for this perfect repose suggested an agony more awful than yells and groans and struggles.

The silence was like acid; it burned without a flame.

And Byrne knew, that moment, the quality of the thing which had wasted the rancher.

It was this acid of grief or yearning which had eaten deep into him and was now close to his heart.

The girl had said that for six months he had been failing.