He stirred continually, thrusting his legs about and flinging his arms above his head. “Hainault, Celeste’s friend. He went on. "Your assistants are in my power. The terrific mental tension of the past few months —that had held his bodily nourishment in a kind of strangulation—became as a dream; and now his vitals responded rapidly to food and air. But on Sunday he had been obliged to attend to certain matters for the nuns. ‘Sleeping like a baby, he is. At least I can’t talk to them.
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