Poor old fellow! I fear that the strain of the past week has broken down even his iron strength.

All the time of the burial he was, I could see, putting some terrible restraint on himself.

When it was all over, we were standing beside Arthur, who, poor fellow, was speaking of his part in the operation where his blood had been transfused to his Lucy's veins.

I could see Van Helsing's face grow white and purple by turns.

Arthur was saying that he felt since then as if they two had been really married, and that she was his wife in the sight of God.