"I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. Sheppard, bitterly. I do swear. She had all the fascination of being absolutely perplexing in this respect. Supposing they find you and take you away?—and she unprepared? Have you thought of that? Why did you marry her?" "God alone knows!" "And you don't love her! What kind of a woman do you want, anyhow?"—with rising anger. ‘Ha! Just the person I want.
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