'—'They can't,' says I. He kissed her ardently. Ramage leaned over the gate at Ann Veronica’s side, and for a moment there was silence. Maggot, who promptly interposed her cudgel. “I love this warm end of summer more than words can tell,” he said. The eyes left him, searching beside the chair for her cane. Then, mysteriously, he no longer smelled or tasted it. Over the sea of heads arose a black and dismal object.
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