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"By George!" he exclaimed. ’ ‘Gone off?’ repeated Melusine, her wrongs rising up to tear into her chest. He was unaware that his illness had opened the way to the inherent conscience and that the acquired had been temporarily blanketed, or that there was any ancient fanaticalism in his blood. And pouring the contents of a small powderflask into a bumper of brandy, he tendered him the mixture. When you don’t have any fingers left, I take a toe. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life.
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