“Yes,” he said, “a draught of water; but it is the very last—you hear!—the last. I had kept it as a precious treasure at the bottom of my flask. Twenty times, nay, a hundred times, have I fought against a frightful impulse to drink it off. But no, Axel, I kept it for you.”
I call BS. How much water did he hoard before giving the last drop to his dying nephew?
