I could not keep away any longer. And in this fact lay his danger. Kneebone took his leave. He was always forgetting that his tummy was fifty-four years old. I’ve told them all that was necessary, but I— wanted to ask your pardon—for having made myself a nuisance to you, and for breaking into your rooms—and to thank you—the doctor says you bound up my wound—or I should have bled to death.
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