He had no taste for the northern plough; nor, on the other hand, did he intend to run his head against the laneful of carriage and foot folk, that apparently cut him off from the best of the Vale of Belvoir.
…-the clear effulgence of the stars by night-….
The C-47s could not make it over the Hump with a full load and full tanks.
I had lived with him, scarcely conscious that he had an individual smell at all. But now I could recognise it at once - soapy, mentholy, a little sweaty, musky, turpsy. I passed the material under my nose, and his presence was filling my head.
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