The heavy weapon thundered against the door; and it speedily yielded to their efforts. The dress came to her only too manifestly unwashed from its former wearer; even the under-linen they gave her seemed unclean. These things were common knowledge among the bon ton, who were generously welcoming these unfortunate escapees. “Miserable bounder,” he murmured. Kneebone cordially on the shoulder, and began to laugh as heartily as any of them. “You see, dear, one IS passionately anxious for something—what is it? One wants to be CLEAN. After all, what could happen? He was looking at her very hard and earnestly. ” He leaned back in his chair as though wearied. Given the proper incentive, who could say that he might not likewise go nobly to some fine end? She thrilled. The Night-Cellar XVIII.
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