For a long time even the strong pipe tobacco (with which McClintock supplied him) possessed a coconut flavour. "Have a little patience, Sir," rejoined the jailer. For hours he seemed to have pleasant dreams of open skies and airplanes, but then the dreams would disintegrate into fleshy charnel house nightmares where he could hear her calling to him through a fog. She noted the dank hair on his forehead, the sweat of revolting nature. Just as he completed this operation, the file broke.
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