These fellows must be right,” he added thoughtfully, “and yet—there’s a mystery somewhere. "Why, so it is," she said, in mock astonishment. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. She wet some absorbent cotton with alcohol and refreshed his face and neck. You say you need a man.
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