“The rarefied air? I thought you had a better head. " "I, Sir!—I swear——" "Tush!" interrupted Jonathan, harshly. “And that only brings me up to about sixty-five! “A glittering wilderness of time That to the sunset reaches No keel as yet its waves has ploughed Or gritted on its beaches. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. Drink the toast, Jack.
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