Glancing towards him she saw that a shadow had fallen upon his face. She moved towards it slowly and picked it up, holding it out in front of her whilst the familiar perfume seemed to assert itself with damning insistence. "I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. ‘But I’m hanged if I know why you find it so amusing. I was rude and stupid. Remember that he’s not at all a bad sort, and to speak frankly, he’s your salvation. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. "I should never have been what I am, but for you. She could not bear the shame of it. Come!” They went out together and he called a hansom.
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