He flung Ruth aside, careless whether she fell or not. “We are not the sort that goes under,” said Ann Veronica, holding her hands so that the red reflections vanished from her eyes. John turned toward the short staircase as she alit upon the first creaky step. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. He was a just man, and he did not care to start any thunder which was not based upon fairness.
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