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. "Where did I hear that before?" "Perhaps that first day, in the water-clock tower. And we are not traders looking at equivalents. She fluttered it with a trembling hand, averting her eyes from his, and he could hear her uneven breath behind it. That won’t involve references, as a bank account would—and all that sort of thing. All its better points were improved, while the less attractive ones (and they were few in comparison) were subdued, or removed. Heaven knows what dim and tawdry conceptions of passion and desire were in that blond cranium, what romance-begotten dreams of intrigue and adventure! but they sufficed, when presently Ann Veronica went out into the darkling street again, to inspire a flitting, dogged pursuit, idiotic, exasperating, indecent. The ambitions of his life, and they were many, seemed to lie far away, broken up dreams in some outside world where the way was rough and the sky always grey. Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom. She quickened her pace, and so did he, talking at her slightly averted ear.
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