He would have to go on; he would be forced to enact all the obligations he had imposed upon himself. “I am afraid that you are making a mistake. The unpleasant oily chill of fever overtook her body, and she watched in horror as Sebastian carried her to his bed on his shoulder like a sack of flour. What a pity! But why? There was no way over this puzzle, nor under it, nor around it: that men should drink, knowing the inevitable payment. In fact, one of them was downright sceptical.
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