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"Nor I. There's a boat to the Argentine tomorrow. You're in luck; they've made an arrest. It's in the paper." "What?" The cigarette end dropped, the thin pyjama'd figure writhed up and stood clutching at the bedrail. "What?" The disturbing thought flitted through Keith's brain: 'I was a fool. He takes it queerly; what now? Laurence passed his hand over his forehead, and sat down on the bed.
After Mazarin's death the king's council assumed a more decent form. The king alone was seated, all the others remained standing, the chancellor leaned against the bedrail, and M. de Lionne upon the edge of the chimney-piece. "I have no ministers, Mr. Ambassador," replied Louis XIV.; "you mean to say my men of business."
Wicks, Sister, not only has his back to the road with trams on it, but for eleven months he has had his eyes on the yellow stone of the wall of the German ward; that is, when they are not on his own bedrail.... "But if his bed were turned round to range alongside the window...? For he is a man with two eyes; not one who can write upon a stone wall with his thoughts.
She stood upright, and took two or three steps. But as she paused again her emotion became overwhelming, and she clutched feebly at the bedrail. With her head resting upon both thin arms she began to cry aloud great turbulent sobs which shook her whole body. "My baby! My baby!" she wailed noisily. "Oh, what shall I do! My baby!" Sally's lips quivered. She tried to smile.
"Somehow I got upon my feet, or dreamed I did God knows where dreaming ended and reality began. Gentlemen maybe you'll conclude I went mad last night, but as I stood holding on to the bedrail I heard the blood throbbing through my arteries with a noise like a screw-propeller. I started laughing.
One glance he ventured, and started back with a groan. His apprehensions had fallen short of the reality. With one hand clutching the bedrail, he stood there swaying from side to side, and striving to screw up his courage to the point whereat he might venture upon a second glance in the mirror. At last he succeeded, looking long and pitifully. "Oh, Lord!" he groaned, "what a guy!"
His worldly pleasures were beside him his reading-lamp, his Christmas box of cigars, his Star but his eyes, disregarding them, were upon that sober vision that hung around the bedrail. He began a bitter conversation: "Nurse, I'm only a ranker, but I had a bit saved. I went to a private doctor and paid for myself. And I went to a specialist, and he told me I should never get this.
And thus together we slurred over the fact of that pendulous, nerveless body which had hung from the crutches like an old stocking. But all the evening he was buried in his own silence, and I suppose he was looking at the vision on the bedrail. A boy of seventeen was brought in yesterday with pneumonia. He was so ill that he couldn't speak, and we put screens round his bed.
I may be quite wrong about him; it is possible he doesn't think at all, but stares himself into some happier dream. One day when he is dead, when he is as totally dead as he tells me he hopes to be, that bed with its haunted bedrail will bend under another man's weight. Surely it must be haunted? The weight of thought, dream or nightmare, that hangs about it now is almost visible to me. Mr.
I dared not admit the physical quivering of the bed, for I could not, with sanity, believe its cause to be anything human. But what I saw, yet could not credit seeing, was this: A ghostly white face, which seemed to glisten in some faint reflected light from the sitting-room beyond, peered over the bedrail; gibbered at me demoniacally.
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