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The neighbours come in and look at 'er, but she didn't seem to know. We 'ad two quiet nights with 'er, and then all of a sudden in the middle of the afternoon she started screamin' and writhin. Oh, lor, Miss Olga, you never see the like. It was just as if she were bein' tortured over a slow fire. Well, Briggs, 'e was fair unmanned by it.
I grabbed the bottle an' hustled back to him, but he was all crumpled up on the floor. We straightened him out an' rubbed his wrists an' poured whiskey down his throat, an' after a while he opened his eyes. The minute his senses got back to him he clutched at his heart again, rollin' an' writhin', an' makin' noises like a wounded beast. "I knew it would end this way," he gasped.
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