If hate could kill, Ramage would have been killed by a flash of hate. As they passed beneath the thick trees that shade the road to Dollis Hill, the gloom was almost impenetrable. Of course I knew all about him years ago, and he is exactly like everybody’s description of him. Her brother Roddy, who was in the motor line, came to expostulate; her sister Alice wrote. If he recovers he may not accuse her. The leg and wing of a duck were disposed of by this gentleman in a twinkling; a brace of pigeons and a pound of steak followed with equal celerity; and he had just begun to make a fierce assault upon the eggs and ham. 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.
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