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. "You musht do dat shob yourself, Mishter Vild," rejoined Abraham, shaking his head. His literary instincts began to stir. “A young man comes into life asking how best he may place himself,” Ramage had said; “a woman comes into life thinking instinctively how best she may give herself. I don’t feel it. "I have sworn to see him hanged," he said, "and nothing shall keep me away— nothing, by——. People were passing in the street below.
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