"Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "Forgive you—bless you!" she gasped. Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind. “Those things are arranged more easily in any other country than England. ‘Only you made me lose my temper, and—’ ‘I made you do so? Pah!’ Gerald at last succeeded in ripping the handkerchief from her grasp, and swiftly held it to her neck, oblivious to her now bloodied fingers clawing at his hand. 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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