There aren’t many of them, so they don’tcount with you. The doctor said he was going to die. And I loved him.You’ve learned what that means, too, haven’t you? He didn’t need much.Only rest, and fresh air, and food. He had no right to that, had he? YourState said so. We tried to beg. We begged humbly. Do you know what theysaid? There was a doctor in a hospital and he said he had hundreds on hiswaiting list. ...“You see, you must understand this thoroughly. No one does. No one seesit, but I do, I can’t help it, I see it, you must see it, too. You understand?Hundreds. Thousands. Millions. Millions of what? Stomachs, and heads, andlegs, and tongues, and souls. And it doesn’t even matter whether they fittogether. Just millions. Just flesh. Human flesh. And they—it—had beenregistered and numbered, you know, like tin cans on a store shelf. I wonderif they’re registered by the person or by the pound? And they had a chanceto go on living. But not Leo. He was only a man