Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. God! I have cheated myself into a belief that the boy perished! And now my worst fears are realized —he lives!" "As yet," returned Jonathan, with fearful emphasis. I have said good-bye to it all. "Suppose he does. Her father—man of rock—had never needed her, whereas Hoddy, even if he did not love her, would always be needing her. Yet you make our Bohemianism seem like a vulgar thing.
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