Kneebone—she was too well acquainted; having, more than once, been obliged to repel his advances; and, though his impertinence would have given her little concern at another season, it now added considerably to her distraction. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. So long as she stood beside him, the Hand would not prevail.
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