Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. "Wet your whistle before you start, Jack," said Kneebone, pouring out a glass of ale. Then it came to her with a shock, as an extraordinary oversight, that she could never tell Manning about Ramage—never. ” They left the restaurant just as the rain slowed to a dull trickle, the fury of the storm exhausted, having left mirror puddles in its wake. She could run away from him, if she wished, as she had run away from her father; she could carry out the original adventure. Her father held some printed document in his hand, and appeared not to observe her entry.
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