The feeling of last days grew stronger with her as their number diminished. "The door!—the door!—death!" he added, as he tried the handle, "it is locked—and I am unarmed. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. But I don’t want to. As she raised it, its lower portion fell apart into two baggy crimson masses. The young man desperately ill and the girl taking care of him! Of course, there could be only one ending to such a bout with liquor, and that ending had come perhaps suddenly but not surprisingly.
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