E. Well-balanced, sane, wasn’t I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I’m pretty near being one now, and it’s her fault. Let's talk of this chap. With some difficulty, they managed to negotiate the passage with their burden and carry him out into the library. Whisky kills him suddenly; it does not sap him gradually. On coming to himself, he found he had been wrapped in a blanket and put to bed with a couple of hot bricks to his feet.
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