The Doctor caught his throat convulsively.
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Fourteen! You say so!I can remember when I wore fourteen.And come to think I must have back at homeMore than a hundred collars, size fourteen.Too bad to waste them all. You ought to have them.They're yours and welcome; let me send them toyou.What makes you stand there on one leg like that?You're not much furtherer than where Kike left you,You act as if you wished you hadn't come.Sit down or lie down friend; you make me nervous." The Doctor made a subdued dash for it,And propped himself at bay against a pillow. "Not that way, with your shoes on Kike's whitebed.You can't rest that way. Let me pull your shoesoff." "Don't touch me, please—-I say, don't touch me,please.I'll not be put to bed by you, my man." "Just as you say. Have it your own way then.'My man' is it? You talk like a professor.Speaking of who's afraid of who, however,I'm thinking I have more to lose than youIf anything should happen to be wrong.Who wants to cut your number fourteen throat!Let's have a show down as an evidenceOf good faith. There is ninety dollars.Come, if you're not afraid." "_I_'m not afraid.There's five: that's all I carry." "I can search you?Where are you moving over to? Stay still.
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