John’s demeanor shifted. I think that I have become a drug drinker. Everything in the world to live for!—fame that he could not reap, love that he must not take! What was all this pother about hell as a future state? By and by things began to stir on the table: little invisible things. "How would you like a job on a copra plantation?" he asked, irrelevantly to the thoughts crowding one another in his mind. “I wonder,” she said, “how much you care. Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him.
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