“Will he die?” she asked. The very sight of these impediments, would have appalled a less courageous spirit than Sheppard's—but nothing could daunt him. Ann Veronica took off her jacket and sat down in the corner chair, and leaned forward to look into the great hazy warm brown cavity of the house, and Ramage placed his chair to sit beside her and near her, facing the stage. He could not see these two shrinking misses capering about in a nun’s habit and brandishing a defiant pistol. Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself.
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