’ ‘What, a common soldier?’ ‘He was not a common soldier. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. For a second time Ann Veronica wanted to swear at the universe. The scanty furniture of the rooms corresponded with their dungeon-like aspect. “He has a stubbly yellow moustache, weak eyes, and great horrid hands.
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