![]() ![]() ![]() I had got my pile not one of the big ones, but good enough for me and I had figured out all kinds of ways of enjoying myself. ‘Richard Hannay,’ I kept telling myself, ‘you have got into the wrong ditch, my friend, and you had better climb out.’ It made me bite my lips to think of the plans I had been building up those last years in Bulawayo. The weather made me liverish, the talk of the ordinary Englishman made me sick, I couldn’t get enough exercise, and the amusements of London seemed as flat as sodawater that has been standing in the sun. If anyone had told me a year ago that I would have been feeling like that I should have laughed at him but there was the fact. I had been three months in the Old Country, and was fed up with it. I returned from the City about three o’clock on that May afternoon pretty well disgusted with life. ![]()
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