She shuddered; the room was unfamiliar and unwelcoming. Part of her felt like laughing insanely at how badly she had been duped. She looked away. Sometimes we had the Illustrated London News and Tit-Bits. She was honest again. “Remember,” he said, “you are not by any means a dying man now, but you’ll never pull through if you don’t husband your strength. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. The light!—the light!" Astounded at his cries, Thames sprang towards him.
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