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OODNESS! What's that?" whispered Lady Jane, starting violently.

For what seemed to them many hours, she and Thomas Trotter had sat, quite snugly comfortable, in the dark air-chamber. Comfortable, I say, but I fear that the bewildering joy of having her in his arms rendered him impervious to what under other conditions would most certainly have been a severe strain upon his physical endurance. In other words, she rested very comfortably and cosily in the crook of his arm, her head against his shoulder, while he, sitting bolt upright with no support whatsoever— But why try to provide him with cause for complaint when he was so obviously contented?

Her suppressed exclamation followed close upon the roar and crash of an ear-splitting explosion. The reverberation rolled and rumbled and dwindled away into the queerest silence. Almost immediately the clatter of falling debris assailed their ears. She straightened up and clutched his arm convulsively.

"Rain," he said, with a short laugh. For an instant his heart had stood still. So appalling was the crash that he involuntarily raised an arm to shield his beloved companion from the shattered walls that were so soon to tumble about their ears. "Beating on the tin roof," he went on, jerkily.