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Dead Men Tell No Tales | E. W. Hornung | |
Chapter IV The Silent Sea |
Page 3 of 4 |
She was saved in the gig. Sweet Jesus, thanks for that! But I - I was dying a lingering death in mid-ocean; she would never know how I loved her, I, who could only lecture her when I had her at my side. Dying? No - no - not yet! I must live - live - live - to tell my darling how I had loved her all the time. So I forced myself from my lethargy of despair and grief; and this thought, the sweetest thought of all my life, may or may not have been my unrealized stimulus ere now; it was in very deed my most conscious and perpetual spur henceforth until the end. >From this onward, while my sense stood by me, I was practical, resourceful, alert. It was now high-noon, and I had eaten nothing since dinner the night before. How clearly I saw the long saloon table, only laid, however, abaft the mast; the glittering glass, the cool white napery, the poor old dried dessert in the green dishes! Earlier, this had occupied my mind an hour; now I dismissed it in a moment; there was Eva, I must live for her; there must be ways of living at least a day or two without sustenance, and I must think of them. |
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Dead Men Tell No Tales E. W. Hornung |
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