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"I say," he said now, laughing nervously, but with an
undernote of snarl in his voice, "why on earth are you nipping my
arm off, Horrocks, and dragging me along like this?"
At length Horrocks released him. His manner changed again.
"Nipping your arm off?" he said. "Sorry. But it's you taught me
the trick of walking in that friendly way."
"You haven't learnt the refinements of it yet then," said
Raut, laughing artificially again. "By Jove! I'm black and blue."
Horrocks offered no apology. They stood now near the bottom of the
hill, close to the fence that bordered the railway. The ironworks
had grown larger and spread out with their approach. They looked
up to the blast furnaces now instead of down; the further view of
Etruria and Hanley had dropped out of sight with their descent.
Before them, by the stile rose a notice-board, bearing still dimly
visible, the words, "BEWARE OF THE TRAINS," half hidden by splashes
of coaly mud.
"
Fine effects," said Horrocks, waving his arm. "Here comes a
train. The puffs of smoke, the orange glare, the round eye of
light in front of it, the melodious rattle. Fine effects! But
these furnaces of mine used to be finer, before we shoved cones in
their throats, and saved the gas."
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