“What have you done to yourself?” he muttered. ’ ‘And me,’ came the guttural response, ‘I will certainly murder you the very next time I am compelled to see your face. “I just came to you and put myself in your hands. In passing, why do we fear death? For our sins? Rather, isn't it the tremendous inherent human curiosity to know what is going to happen to-morrow that causes us to wince at the thought of annihilation? A subconscious resentment against the idea of entering darkness while our neighbour will proceed with his petty affairs as usual? "It's nip and tuck," said the doctor; "but we'll pull him through. Immediately after it, he was off again, and that, let me tell you, was the last anyone saw of him. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. She remained for some seconds crouching at the fender, poker in hand.
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