‘Who kills who?’ ‘Rot in hell,’ he snarled, panting, and managed to push himself forward and leap off the dais, running for the safety of the far aisle by the wall. Knowing the South Seas from hearsay and by travel, he knew something of that inertia which blunted the fineness, innate and acquired, of white men and women, the eternal warfare against indifference and slovenliness. When he had finished he took up the wine list and ordered a bottle of dry champagne. Given the proper incentive, who could say that he might not likewise go nobly to some fine end? She thrilled. Retract your words instantly, or take the consequences. If he ran less risk of being blown over, he stood a much greater chance of being washed off, or stifled. ‘Why does this person say you are mad?’ ‘Because I am risking having my head blown off,’ Gerald answered cheerfully. Still it was possible, and the difficulty was only a fresh incitement. "I suppose he'll be on his feet any day now. That’s really why we do them sometimes rather well and get on. ‘But on the off chance—slim, I grant you —that there is a spy down there, I don’t want to miss the fun. " "Thank God for that!" cried Wood, heartily.
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