" ...] 'Less 'n it is away deep down in his own heart, at night, Facin' the storm, when all the town's a-sleepin' snug and tight- Him splashin' hence from scenes o' pride and sloth and gilded show, To some pore sufferer's bedside o' anguish, don't you know Er maybe dead o' winter-makes no odds to Doc XXXII ...]."
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