She brought Sebastian’s chloroformed rag up to his face with her right. ‘Scream and you are dead,’ he snapped, and released her mouth so that he might open the door. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. Acting upon this humane determination, he impelled himself slowly backwards,—for he did not dare to face the blast,—and with incredible labour and fatigue reached the crevice. I'm burning up.
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