For hours he seemed to have pleasant dreams of open skies and airplanes, but then the dreams would disintegrate into fleshy charnel house nightmares where he could hear her calling to him through a fog. ” She peered at him through the semi-blackness. God bless you, Auntie! I'll go into the mills and make pulp with my bare hands, if you want me to. ‘You’re the most troublesome wretch I’ve ever encountered,’ he told her bitterly. She had come across the wicked South Seas which were still infested with cannibals; she had seen drunkenness and called men beachcombers; who was this moment as innocent as a babe, and in the next uttered some bitter wisdom it had taken a thousand years of philosophy to evolve. Not MY affair.
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