She wet some absorbent cotton with alcohol and refreshed his face and neck. The next door neighbor's dog, chained outside, let out a single bark, but was silent as soon as she turned in that direction, instinctively afraid. He was not there. There would be no moon. It was interesting to see how different and characteristic his mode of approach was to all sorts of questions that interested her, and it was amusing to discover this other side to the life of a Morningside Park inhabitant. ‘What started you off, you madman,’ Roding told him frankly, as he set about tying his handkerchief around the wound, ‘was being born at all.
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