Blueskin answered by dashing his head violently against the flagged floor. With his tongue lolling and his flea-bitten stump wagging apologetically, he glanced from face to face to see if there was any forgiveness visible. Several people were passed out on the sectional sofa, and muffled noises emanated from other rooms indicating that the party’s embers were still smoldering, but John was nowhere to be seen. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year. "A hell of a muddle! But all the talk in the world can't undo it.
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