At evening he was no better, the fever was still high.  Yet there were no complications—­except that the heart was irregular.

“The one thing I wonder,” said Lilly, “is whether you hadn’t better be moved out of the noise of the market.  It’s fearful for you in the early morning.”

“It makes no difference to me,” said Aaron.

The next day he was a little worse, if anything.  The doctor knew there was nothing to be done.  At evening he gave the patient a calomel pill.  It was rather strong, and Aaron had a bad time.  His burning, parched, poisoned inside was twisted and torn.  Meanwhile carts banged, porters shouted, all the hell of the market went on outside, away down on the cobble setts.  But this time the two men did not hear.

“You’ll feel better now,” said Lilly, “after the operation.”

“It’s done me harm,” cried Aaron fretfully.  “Send me to the hospital, or you’ll repent it.  Get rid of me in time.”

“Nay,” said Lilly.  “You get better.  Damn it, you’re only one among a million.”

Again over Aaron’s face went the ghastly grimace of self-repulsion.

“My soul’s gone rotten,” he said.

“No,” said Lilly.  “Only toxin in the blood.”

Next day the patient seemed worse, and the heart more irregular.  He rested badly.  So far, Lilly had got a fair night’s rest.  Now Aaron was not sleeping, and he seemed to struggle in the bed.

“Keep your courage up, man,” said the doctor sharply.  “You give way.”

Aaron looked at him blackly, and did not answer.

In the night Lilly was up time after time.  Aaron would slip down on his back, and go semi-conscious.  And then he would awake, as if drowning, struggling to move, mentally shouting aloud, yet making no sound for some moments, mentally shouting in frenzy, but unable to stir or make a sound.  When at last he got some sort of physical control he cried:  “Lift me up!  Lift me up!”

Lilly hurried and lifted him up, and he sat panting with a sobbing motion, his eyes gloomy and terrified, more than ever like a criminal who is just being executed.  He drank brandy, and was laid down on his side.

“Don’t let me lie on my back,” he said, terrified.  “No, I won’t,” said Lilly.  Aaron frowned curiously on his nurse.  “Mind you don’t let me,” he said, exacting and really terrified.

“No, I won’t let you.”

And now Lilly was continually crossing over and pulling Aaron on to his side, whenever he found him slipped down on his back.

In the morning the doctor was puzzled.  Probably it was the toxin in the blood which poisoned the heart.  There was no pneumonia.  And yet Aaron was clearly growing worse.  The doctor agreed to send in a nurse for the coming night.

“What’s the matter with you, man!” he said sharply to his patient.  “You give way!  You give way!  Can’t you pull yourself together?”