And he began also at times to wake at night and think about her. He felt hands tugging at him, mysterious creatures with long fingers and sharp nails that pulled at his flesh. “He was alive at four o’clock this afternoon,” she answered, “but the doctors give little hope of his recovery. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. " "Ay, but he will.
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