He—In fact, he—he locked me in my room. Little more’n a week. The back of the house had been the Alps for climbing, and the shrubs in front of it a Terai. A forgotten island beyond the ship lanes, where that grim Hand would falter and move blindly in its search for him! From what he had read, there wouldn't be much to do; and in the idle hours he could write. And now— I suppose I should be considered too old.
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