’ ‘It’s too late for that,’ Gerald told her evenly. " "Allow me to offer you a glass of usquebaugh, my dear," said Kneebone, turning from him, and regarding Edgeworth Bess with a stare so impertinent, that even that not over-delicate young lady summoned up a blush. Quite trying of him not to be there when he is wanted. Conscience was always digging sudden pits for his feet and common sense ridiculing his fears. Probably some woman on the loose; they were as thick as flies over here—dizzy blondes. His assistance came too late.
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