He's on the ragged edge. All alone; and nobody cared whether he lived or died. The little streaks upon the germinating area of an egg, the nervous movements of an impatient horse, the trick of a calculating boy, the senses of a fish, the fungus at the root of a garden flower, and the slime upon a sea-wet rock—ten thousand such things bear their witness and are illuminated. ‘Troops?’ ‘Go, man,’ urged the major in an undervoice. Then Ramage appeared with effusion, and ushered her into his inner apartment.
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