I am sure it will be good, John, and I could eat anything. It was the girl. “Nice sleeve,” she said, and came to his hand and kissed it. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. At length Jack Sheppard observed:—"The coast's clear.
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