Brendon and I returned from the ‘Unusual,’ and found him lying in my room shot through the lungs. 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. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. Seemed like he knew so much—more than me, miss. He glanced at it, and saw the bloodied blade.
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