It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. ‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. ‘Least of all, one who takes advantage of another’s misfortune. "Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory. He groaned, much to Melusine’s relief. “Hospital? What for? What’s the matter with me?” Courtlaw’s voice sank to a whisper.
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