Kimble was clearly a plain-spoken fellow. ‘Poor Hilary. He had an objective now. “NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. Wood dandled his little charge to and fro, after the most approved nursery fashion, essaying at the same time the soothing influence of an infantine melody proper to the occasion; but, failing in his design, he soon lost all patience, and being, as we have before hinted, rather irritable, though extremely well-meaning, he lifted the unhappy bantling in the air, and shook him with so much good will, that he had well-nigh silenced him most effectually. She slipped silently inside the door as he went inside a 12 putrid little bathroom to urinate. Couldn’t face me with what he’d done, the miserable blackguard.
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