A figure was crouching before the large grate and by its leanness and greyness he knew that it was the dean of studies lighting the fire. He's very moist and watery about the dewlaps, God bless him. Perhaps some of you gentlemen may be familiar with the works of Mr W. He felt the death chill touch the extremities and creep onward towards the heart, the film of death veiling the eyes, the bright centres of the brain extinguished one by one like lamps, the last sweat oozing upon the skin, the powerlessness of the dying limbs, the speech thickening and wandering and failing, the heart throbbing faintly and more faintly, all but vanquished, the breath, the poor breath, the poor helpless human spirit, sobbing and sighing, gurgling and rattling in the throat.
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