‘Take this. There would be no moon. ‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands. He was conscious of a quickening of his heartbeat and the familiar rise of adrenalin that sent his senses soaring in anticipation. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. Only you good ones— shirk. “Remember,” he said, “you are not by any means a dying man now, but you’ll never pull through if you don’t husband your strength.
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