It was not until the morning of the fifth day that the constant vigil was broken. ‘You should not kiss me at all, and undoubtedly I should kill you. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. It is the bottom of the cup, where all the dregs appear to settle. I feel that I shall stifle unless I can do something—and do something soon. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed.
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