Did you warn Frith?’ ‘Yes. 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. For such of us as pretend to be wise—and we are but fools in a lesser degree—we know that humanity moves onward only by the impellant of fine dreams. Jim is up to the neck in Mahatmas and Theosophy and Higher Thought and rot—writes letters worse than Alice. “I am glad,” she told herself, “I came. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. " "What for? What do you want of them?" "Why, they are … yours.
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