But on this matter my mind is quite made up. At any rate, here I am, and here I shall be, twenty thousand feet above all your poison-reeking cities, up where God’s wind comes fresh from heaven, very near indeed to the untrodden snows. “Ever yours, “ANNABEL. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. They had not so far been of much personal interest to Gerald, but tonight was different.
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