Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. " By this time Caliban had returned, and Jack appeared at the hatch. “What the hell. “Don’t you understand, Nigel,” she said softly, “that it was precisely for this I have worked so hard. I am sure.
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