Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. I’m sorry to disappoint you. You’d better not have all the money on you; you had better open a small account in the postoffice and draw it out a fiver at a time. “No, I am alone,” she answered. With astonishment, Gerald saw a rheumy film rimming his old commander’s eyes.
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