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Welsh, James C.

"The Underworld The Story of Robert Sinclair, Miner"

She was hot, and
besides the tired sensation in her limbs, there was a griping feeling
about her chest that made breathing difficult.
She reached the station just a minute before the train was due, and
entered an almost empty compartment, glad to be seated and at rest.
The train soon moved out of the station, and an intense desire took hold
of her to go back. The full consciousness of her action only seemed to
strike her now that she had cut the last tie that bound her to the old
life, and involuntarily she rose to her feet, as if to get out. A man
sitting in the opposite corner, thinking she was going to close the
carriage window, laid a restraining hand upon her.
"Don't close it," he said, "fresh air is what we all need, though we may
not in our ignorance think so. But you take it from me, miss, that you
can't get too much fresh air. Let it play about you, and keep it always
passing through your room, or the railway carriage when traveling, and
you'll never be ill. Look at me," he continued aggressively, almost
fiercely, and very pompously, "the very picture of health--never had a
day's illness in my life. And what is the reason? Why, fresh air.


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