Kneebone made no effort to check the unreasonable merriment of his companions, but rather seemed to encourage it. He seemed to stay away from her because she was so cold and formal towards him, addressing him as Mister McCloskey as if she were an Irish maid. ‘Oh, my God, she’s gone!’ Wrenching his hand from his friend’s slackened grasp, he darted for the door, Roding behind him.
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