“I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. He was ruffled, and his ears were red, no doubt from some adjacent controversy. Sebastian had known it was coming, but he could not avoid sleeping as easily as she could. "Go and take your plunge while I attend to breakfast. You give her a daub here and there where the rust shows. Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. Opening the door, he found it littered with straw, on which he threw himself, and instantly fell asleep. . Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes.
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