“Dear me! I wonder what I ought to do. Bodies! Bodies! Horrible things! We are souls. They would suffer amazing hardships to hunt the snow-leopard; but in the Temple of Five Hundred Gods they would not take the trouble to ask the name of one! But this girl, she was alone. ” The shock of their intellectual attitude was over, usage robbed it of the first quaint effect of deliberate unreason. And Blueskin, who, for a moment, had looked round distrustfully, concluding it was a feint, now laughed louder than ever. “Before you do anything else I should advise you to secure those charred fragments of paper from the grate.
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