"I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. “It is Rhea’s infant. She no more realizes what she has done than a child of eight. He could not move; but stood like one stupified, with his hands clasped together, and eyes almost starting out of their sockets, fixed upon his unfortunate parent. She limited herself to eating once a fortnight, until she discovered that she could go without comfortably for a month.
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