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Right over there was
where he sat preparing some cultures. There were two things with which he
had been working;--again a pause, and a stillness. One of them could not
make any serious difference; he went that far firmly, and then his heart
seemed to stand quite still, waiting for his thought to go on. But he did
not go on; there was a little convulsive clutching of his consciousness,
and a return, with acclaim, to the fact that _that_ could not make any
serious difference. He clung there; he would not leave that; doggedly,
defiantly, insistently, all-embracingly he affirmed that _that_ could not
make any serious difference. It was without opening his thought to
anything further that he got out his things and began preparing the
culture.
He was so accustomed to this that it went very mechanically and quickly.
He took one of the test tubes arranged for the process in the culture
oven and with the small wire instrument he had there, lifted the drop of
pus on the handkerchief into the bullion of the tube.


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