His patient was distinctly of a different order of life. You don’t understand the fix I am in. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. I wanted it badly. " "I don't know," said McClintock. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. I am a single man, and——” “Thank you,” she interrupted.
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