She advanced, stabbing at him. Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. You can’t look me in the eyes and say you don’t care for me. Come along, you mad jade. And now, my angel, that I am acquainted with your sentiments on this subject, I shall readily fulfil a promise which I made to your lamented parent, whose loss I shall ever deplore.
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