“You shall drive home with me in a hansom, if you will. Oh, John. Nervously he pulled alongside the dilapidated oncewhite farmhouse. Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. Distress like hers might palliate far greater offences than she ever committed. ‘That rascally knave sent you to become a French nun?’ Looking positively terrified, the girl nodded dumbly.
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