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Updated: May 25, 2025
A moonlight walk through the low streets, transfigured by the silver gleam into fairy vistas all but the odor brought him to Herr Lebensfunke's house. Simple birdling, on the lookout for him, piloted him through the unsafe channel, and brought him to anchor in the dimly-lit room. "All is ready," said the philosopher, as he trembled forward and shook Ronald's hand. "See here."
More than once the suspicion crept upon him that only a portion of his vitality now remained to him, and that its greater part lay mysteriously coiled in Herr Lebensfunke's life-magnet.
But he had never been seen in Doctor Lebensfunke's neighborhood; and, on the whole, Lottchen was inclined to attribute the Herr Doctor's trouble to an indefinable something whose nature was broadly hinted at by more tapping of the forehead. Ronald Wyde mounted the stairs, locked himself in his room, and wished himself out of the scrape he was getting into.
Psychologically, he was sadly mixed up, he said; for, since that time, he had felt that four lives were joined in him his own, the remnant of Herr Lebensfunke's miserable hoard merged in that of poor birdling's mother, and, last of all, Hans Kraut's.
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