She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. Jolly nose! there are fools who say drink hurts the sight; Such dullards know nothing about it. Capes was something superadded. just furtive meetings. She gave up as he finished, spending himself in her mouth. And then—this sudden thrust. CHAPTER XI.
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