Never mind. Perhaps I am still mad. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. "I'd rather have given a thousand pounds than this had happened. She ignored his question. His head bent down, intent on kissing her underneath the showerhead. She looked about, watching a massive green storm cloud building in the west. "Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat. .
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