"By Heaven!" cried Darrell, "it is the poor fellow whom I placed in such jeopardy a short time ago. Acknowledge your faults. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. “Remember,” he said, “you are not by any means a dying man now, but you’ll never pull through if you don’t husband your strength.
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