There was, in fact, only one clear thought in his fevered brain: he had reached the hotel without falling down. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. It was then, I am sure, empty. "Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely. ’ Pottiswick sucked at his teeth through the gaps.
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