Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world. 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. I loitered in the shop as you chatted with the butcher’s girl. Narrow little beady brown eyes, and she’s got big eyebrows like dead caterpillars. To him she had always appeared as a mere pleasure-loving parasite—something quite insignificant. "Teach you to keep your distance!" retorted Mrs.
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