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first thing of which Prokop was conscious was that everything in him was being shaken and rattled and that some one was holding him firmly round the waist. He had a terrible fear of opening his eyes; he had an idea that everything would collapse on top of him. And when this didn’t happen be opened them and saw in front of him a vague square about which were moving misty balls and strips of light. He was unable to explain it; confusedly he watched the phantom shapes as they jumped about and slid away, having patiently resigned himself to anything which might be in store for him. Then he realized that the rattling was that of the wheels of a cab and that outside lights were slipping past in the fog. Exhausted by this act of observation he again closed his eyes and allowed himself to be carried away.

“Now lie down,” said a quiet voice above his head; “swallow an aspirin and you’ll be better. In the morning I’ll fetch a doctor, yes?”

“Who’s that?” asked Prokop sleepily.

“Thomas. You’re lying down at my place, Prokop. You’ve a fever. Where does it hurt you?”

“Everywhere. I feel giddy. So, you see ”

“Just lie quiet. I’ll boil you some tea and you’ll go off to sleep. It’s the result of excitement, see?