“Only you are the woman I love, and you are in trouble. Lovecraft and Edgar Allan Poe. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. "My worst fears are realized. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware. Later, there will be fever, after I've got his heart pumping. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. “I never dreamt!” she said. He made his speech a little elaborately. "I did all for the best, as I'll explain.
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