"Mr. I know all about it. There was—a service. The next few hours will tell. As soon as the latter beheld him, she uttered a loud scream, and fainted. So, here he was, on the last lap of middle age, in China, having missed all the thrills in life except one—the war against Death. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. ‘Now let’s have it.
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