” “Ready for the performance next Friday?” Martin asked. His arms were naturally big and his chest was covered with a smattering of soft hairs. . ” “It is,” he replied, “the one humiliation of my life. And guess what? I don’t sleep much, if you haven’t noticed. Other phrases returned now, like echoes. Then suddenly he seized a new preparation bottle that stood upon his table and contained the better part of a week’s work—a displayed dissection of a snail, beautifully done—and hurled it across the room, to smash resoundingly upon the cemented floor under the bookcase; then, without either haste or pause, he swept his arm along a shelf of re-agents and sent them to mingle with the debris on the floor. On their return, the jailers raised up Jonathan, who was weltering in his blood, and who appeared to be dying.
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