Who’s for a rubber of whist?” Ennison made so many mistakes that he was glad to cut out early in the evening. Now, no more questions, or I shall be forced to leave the room. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. While he was straining every sinew, his foot slipped, and he fell, head foremost, into a deep trench, which he had not observed in the dark.
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