She was vehemently impatient—she did not clearly know for what—to do, to be, to experience. " "It'll be over in a few minutes," rejoined Jonathan, impatiently; "in fact, it'll be over too soon for me. "You have both," replied Wood, fervently. It never is. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. . The shock and distress were genuine. I learned the trick of the place from one Paul Groves, who used to live here, and who contrived the machine.
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