"Raise your vice, and lave off coughin'," added Terence. \"I'm going to his baseball game, he's pitching for Lincoln, and then I believe he is taking me to dinner. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. Coming from the gloom of the passage, even the corridors seemed sufficiently illuminated for them to see their way. It isn't as if he were stricken with typhoid or pneumonia or something like that.
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