Jack London

wide-spread­ing lawns

Letter 10
June 1835
MY BELOVED ANGEL,

I am nearly mad about you, as much as one can be mad: I cannot bring together two ideas that you do not interpose yourself between them.

I can no longer think of nothing but you. In spite of myself, my imagination carries me to you. I grasp you, I kiss you, I caress you, a thousand of the most amorous caresses take possession of me.

As for my heart, there you will always be — very much so. I have a delicious sense of you there. But my God, what is to become of me, if you have de‍

The mere sight of Beauty Smith was sufficient to send him into transports of fury.

n order to make the exhibition interesting, he was kept in a rage most of the time.

With a slight manifestation of anger, Cherokee took up the pursuit again

White Fang went wild with rage

is anger passed on into panic.

the meantime, the abysmal brute in Beauty Smith had been rising into his brain and mastering the small bit of sanity that he possessed at best.

n the meantime, the abysmal brute in Beauty Smith had been rising into his brain and mastering the small bit of sanity that he possessed at best.

Then he broke loose