Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. His hands came up, his face broke apart. " "You shall finish the bottle when the job's done," replied Jonathan. He kept at it even on those nights when the monsoon began to break with heavy storms and he had to weight down with stones everything on his table. "Oho!" he said. ” “But what are you going to do—where are you going to live?” Annabel asked.
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