‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. The prostitute’s attack was predictable, typical. Kneebone—she was too well acquainted; having, more than once, been obliged to repel his advances; and, though his impertinence would have given her little concern at another season, it now added considerably to her distraction. Kneebone," returned Shotbolt. ” Ramage reflected.
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