\"I don't eat lunch. It was impossible to meet the motion bodily. I didn't think. ‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. 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. He drew a chair to the side of the bed and sat down, terrified by the utter fallowness of his mind.
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