‘When I thought to make them sympathique for me, with a little tear, you understand, and some tricks feminine of this kind—’ ‘Feminine tricks, too?’ cut in Gerald admiringly, controlling a quivering lip. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. And before Kneebone could draw his sword, he felled him to the ground with the iron bar. ‘I’m only surprised you have not released yourself. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. Then to the Feathers, in Drury Lane.
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