Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. ‘Silence,’ hissed a voice in French. You should remember, before you try your strength against mine, that when I rescued you from the watch, and you induced me to come and live with you, I beat off four men, any of whom was a match for you—ha! ha!" "My dear Poll!" said Kneebone, picking himself up, "I entreat you to moderate yourself. She had not made friends with any; so they still eyed her askance.
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