As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. "Before you go, bring me the bottle of pineapple rum I opened yesterday. F.
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