‘Of course I see that,’ she said impatiently. For hours he seemed to have pleasant dreams of open skies and airplanes, but then the dreams would disintegrate into fleshy charnel house nightmares where he could hear her calling to him through a fog. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. “Why? Do you think I’m a stoner?” He asked. Bring me clothing, I beg of you. “You’re getting too old to put things off, John. I'm used to insult as I am to misfortune, and am grown callous to both; but I'm not used to compassion, and know not how to take it.
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