“Bother it all!” she swore. She sings better perhaps. "That I can't say. I can esteem him, regard him; but, love him as he ought to be loved—that I cannot do. And yet he knew clearly and definitely what he purposed to do, what the future would be. ‘We may have to,’ Gerald answered thoughtfully, staring at the window to one side. "Ah!" cried Wild, laying down his pen and looking up with a smile of satisfaction. 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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