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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. “I suppose you know I like you tremendously?” he pursued. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. ” The figure of her aunt, a little distant, a little propitiatory, behind the coffee things, filled her with a sense of almost catastrophic adventure.
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