Before he even glanced at the man on the floor he stepped over to her side and took the poker from her. “Stop! Don’t put your face there. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. "Why do you ask?" rejoined the other haughtily. This discovery made, I hastened back to London to offer you my hand, but found you had married in the mean time a smock-faced, smooth-tongued carpenter named Sheppard. He then said that if she would not obey him in this course she should “never darken his doors again,” and was, indeed, frightfully abusive. The other kicked over the traces a bit, made rather a hit with her singing at some of those French places, and went the pace in a mild, ladylike sort of way. "But—sapperment!—I wish they hadn't broken my pipe.
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