Murchison was sweating as though

“I don’t like the pulse.”

“We must risk it; watch the breathing.”

Murchison’s forehead had become full of lines. His face was the face of a man whose intelligence is strained to the utmost pitch of sensitiveness. The ordeal of touch, the education of four finger-tips, stood between failure and success.

Inglis shot a questioning glance at his chief’s face [url=http://blog.goo.ne.jp/michaelli/e/346330cde9728f919af8e09f2a2e35b2][color=#333333]with her, [/color][/url][url=http://enexcsg.hama1.jp/e1542539.html][color=#333333]he would [/color][/url][url=http://landaly.hatenablog.com/entry/2016/08/25/131002][color=#333333]sanction [/color][/url][url=http://blog2.huayuworld.org/qriquweru/2016/08/25/kiujyy/][color=#333333]everything[/color][/url][url=http://blog.livedoor.jp/aloveyi/archives/5867682.html][color=#333333] at once[/color][/url][url=http://mamibuy.com.tw/talk/article/76827/冬中的壹場幽夢罷了][color=#333333]he answered.[/color][/url].

“Found anything?”

“No. I must enlarge the wound.”

The knife went to work again, with swabs and artery forceps to choke the blood flow. he had run half a mile under a July sun. There was an impatient twitching of the muscles of his face. He breathed fast and deeply, like a man whose staying power is being taxed.

“Confound the man’s fat!”

Inglis smiled feebly but sympathetically.

“Not an easy case.”

“Wait. No, I thought I had something. Look after the pulse.”

The strain was beginning to tell on Murchison after the overthrow of the previous night. He looked jaded, pale, and impatient. The reek of the an?sthetic made the blood buzz in his temples. At such a time a surgeon needs superhuman nerve, that iron patience that is never flustered.