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"Remember; we must keep the young fellow's thoughts away from himself. \"I'm not hungry either, I'm still worked up from that game. . There was no answer. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. ‘Just around it, Hilary, that’s all. Let—it—fall. 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. CHAPTER XII. ’ A strangled sob escaped her as his thumb dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her wrist. It’s the rarest luck, the wildest, most impossible accident. He sat up in his chair as though the question had stung him.
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