Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it. What had urged her to wrench loose and fly was the guarding instinct of the good woman. Through that she had to go. Or mad, just as the captain had said so many times.
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