Word: mereness
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...Stephen? I looked about me in a bewildered way. There was no trace of the terrible contest I had witnessed the night before; there was no dead man on the floor, no blood-spot or stain, no sign of struggle or death. What was it I had seen, - a mere nightmare, a vision? I could not think so. I had been too profoundly affected by that scene, whatever it was, to let it vanish utterly in the morning brightness that made it seem an unreality. But where was Stephen? Where was his murderer? For murdered he must have been...
...Heretofore, every thing has been left for the Executive Committee to do. If any thing of particular importance came up before that committee, it used to be referred to the Boat Club, until these meetings came to be so poorly attended that the holding of a meeting was a mere farce. Harvard indifference, so called, is a dangerous trait in the Harvard student, and the sooner he appreciates this the better for his college. What a marked contrast was the attendance of the meeting of Tuesday evening with that called for such an important matter as the consideration...
...still more startled to observe that its body was growing longer and larger, till it was towering above me. The features, too, were changing : the look of fury gradually subsided into one of melancholy; the tail kept up a tattoo on the bottom of the boat; the eyes became mere circles; the spots around the nose grew larger and more distinct, until they assumed definite figures, that seemed like the Roman numerals. The body was fading away. The flapping of the tail became louder and had a metallic ring. The goggling eyes lost all expression. But the beating...
...something else. An idea came to me. I'd smother the sound. I put it in the bureau drawer. Clang! whirr! sphiz! The thing was getting serious. If the diabolical machine kept on, Boxer might wake, and then - but I wasn't going to be balked by a mere piece of mechanism. I threw it into the bed, between the blankets. Clang! swurr! The perspiration stood on my brow; a reckless desperation seized upon me. I hurled it into the closet, and tumbled all my clothes - dress suit and all - down upon it. Spiz! wrurr! like ten thousand furies...
...left alone, the prey of conflicting emotions. Being torn in different directions, I could not breathe freely. I rose, and paced quickly up and down the room. Suddenly I espied a scrap of paper in the corner. I went for it at once. It was a mere fragment, old and yellow; but I thought I recognized the handwriting, and in places it was blistered - with tears? It ran as follows...