The mode of destruction makes no difference. 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. I know my son's voice too well. “That is as you will,” she said. He addressed her by that title, and something in the tone disturbed her. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet.
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