Her eyes quizzed the major. "Wet your whistle before you start, Jack," said Kneebone, pouring out a glass of ale. “My dear Miss Stanley, when I talked to you the other afternoon of work and politics and such-like things, my mind was all the time resenting it beyond measure. ” He put his hands on her shoulders and lowered her onto the flat surface of the picnic bench. I kicked the living shit out of him.
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