"You'll have to be doin' it.

I'm sick." It was not only the fever that was burning in his veins, and making him bury his hot head in his hands and wish he had never been born.

It was shame and humiliation, and all because of the look on the face of the girl at the edge of the crowd.

He sat in the shadow of the big box and fought his fight.

The coffee and the excitement no longer kept him up; he was faint, and his breath came short.