Baptist Kettleby (for so was the Master named) was a "goodly portly man, and a corpulent," whose fair round paunch bespoke the affection he entertained for good liquor and good living. A shy virgin bride would not press her thigh sinuously against his, nor consent indeed to this clandestine little comedy he had been playing. "Any price was better than your head. “It’s Ennison, isn’t it?” he exclaimed. If I offered you half of my possessions, you'd doubtless wallop me on the jaw.
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