’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. The opiate has done its duty. At length the task was done, and she jabbed the needle into a cushion, folded the coat, and rose. To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance. The poor boy, imagining things! "That's want of substantial food. \" He panted, wiping sweat off of his brow with a towel.
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