Baptist Kettleby (for so was the Master named) was a "goodly portly man, and a corpulent," whose fair round paunch bespoke the affection he entertained for good liquor and good living. " "But you will,—won't you?" she rejoined, looking him coaxingly in the face. Her roving eagerness was at all times shaded with shyness, reserve, repression. ‘I’ve never found a woman who did not drive me into a frenzy of boredom. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn.
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