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Updated: June 22, 2025
The obliging and phlegmatic Jasmine fell off to sleep immediately, leaning against the trunk of a large tree, while John and Kismine sat, his arm around her, and watched the desperate ebb and flow of the dying battle among the ruins of a vista that had been a garden spot that morning.
Kismine clapped her hands with pleasure, which, a moment later, turned to dismay as the aeroplanes, at some prearranged signal, began to release their bombs and the whole of the valley became a panorama of deep reverberate sound and lurid light.
Into this they all disappeared, the white-haired man first, then his wife and son, finally the two negroes, the glittering tips of whose jewelled head-dresses caught the sun for a moment before the trap-door descended and engulfed them all. Kismine clutched John's arm. "Oh," she cried wildly, "where are they going? What are they going to do?" "It must be some underground way of escape "
"I did," interrupted Kismine, shrugging her shoulders. "We can't very well imprison them like those aviators, where they'd be a continual reproach to us every day. And it's always been made easier for Jasmine and me, because father had it done sooner than we expected. In that way we avoided any farewell scene-" "So you murdered them! Uh!" cried John. "It was done very nicely.
She was dressed in a white little gown that came just below her knees, and a wreath of mignonettes clasped with blue slices of sapphire bound up her hair. Her pink bare feet scattered the dew before them as she came. She was younger than John not more than sixteen. "Hallo," she cried softly, "I'm Kismine." She was much more than that to John already.
They had both got to their feet, and at this remark Kismine came close and put her arm through his. "I'm going, too." "You must be crazy " "Of course I'm going," she interrupted impatiently. "You most certainly are not. You " "Very well," she said quietly, "we'll catch up with father and talk it over with him." Defeated, John mustered a sickly smile.
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