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Wednesday, August 5, 1908
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Nothin' doin'. Just the usual in the office, a set of two at tennis, and a rubber or two at Bridge. It's the nervous intensity of this bustling life that kills one in the tropics. I was never intended to be slave-driven like this. I'm too strong to work, anyway.

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Thursday, August 6, 1908
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The mail caught us with our pants down today, all right. I was upstairs, busily reading, with not a line written, when the two shots drifted over from Marshag. Sawa sawa Smith. We got our trusty quills scratching at once, and after an exhausting struggle we landed inside the money, with nothing further to report, we are.