In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. “Do you know,” she said, “that every one is remarking how ill you look. Here one might live the life of golden days. Few men could have done as much. Doctors constantly admonished and offered weak consolation that most would have been hurt much worse from the type of fall he took. Go to her, I say, and take her in your arms, you poor benighted Ironsides! I can't make you see.
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