See paragraph 1. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. 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. Groups of boys took to ogling her as she walked frenetically from class to class. "Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat.
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