She heard the bamboo curtain rattle slightly. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. Her mind left her. "Wet your whistle before you start, Jack," said Kneebone, pouring out a glass of ale. The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. . ‘What is it?’ asked Roding. " The lad made no answer, but left the room.
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