Kneebone. "Zounds!" cried Kneebone, furiously. The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph. How she hated talking of the man who was responsible for her being brought into the world. During that period she has been a model of propriety. Here was a terrific figure gnashing his teeth, and howling like a wild beast;—there a lover, with hands clasped together and eyes turned passionately upward. “I mean to go to that dance!” she blubbered. He’s waiting.
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