" "Where?" "At Yale. " "You did right," returned Trenchard. Surely it was a dream. "I shall want a bottle or two of sack, and a flask of usquebaugh. I’ve told them all that was necessary, but I— wanted to ask your pardon—for having made myself a nuisance to you, and for breaking into your rooms—and to thank you—the doctor says you bound up my wound—or I should have bled to death. Beck, it smells wonderful in here. It was if the world had blinked out for a moment.
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