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. F. You creep around in a nun’s habit, peering into a private ballroom. . " His demeanour was polished; his manners singularly affable and gentle; and he was remarkable, for the generosity of his temper. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. “If one half of the stories about Meysey Hill are true,” he answered, “I would not stretch out my little finger to save his life. And like that gospel it meant something, something different from its phrases, something elusive, and yet something that in spite of the superficial incoherence of its phrasing, was largely essentially true.
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