Mr. "You are my prisoner. She was dressed in one of those complicated dresses that are all lace and work and confused patternings of black and purple and cream about the body, and she was in many ways a younger feminine version of the same theme as himself. Probably some woman on the loose; they were as thick as flies over here—dizzy blondes. Distress, deep-rooted, and age old. I knew it was only a matter of time before the boys started paying attention to you, Lucy. " "He then," continued the woollen-draper, "is no longer considered—" "How, Sir?" cried Thames, advancing, "what is the meaning of your reference to my name? Have you dared to insult this lady? If so—" "Insult her!" replied Kneebone, rising, and endeavouring to hide his embarrassment under a look of defiance.
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