He moved her dress from her shoulders and off her torso. Ramage leaned over the gate at Ann Veronica’s side, and for a moment there was silence. He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. "Sit down, fool!" "Jack," said Kneebone, who had been considerably interested by the foregoing scene, "are these regrets for your past life sincere?" "Suppose them so," rejoined Jack, "what then?" "Nothing—nothing," stammered Kneebone, his prudence getting the better of his sympathy. ‘But that will do for a start. "Have you sent off the note?" inquired Jack. Nothing else so quickly establishes the condition of comradeship as the sharing of a laughable incident.
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