"He is," returned Quilt, significantly. His hand traveled below her loose neckline, and he cupped her round breast in his hand. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. She blew on the hand cannon and grabbed her bag of gunpowder. It is difficult to express these things. You are not with the Kent militia, are you?’ ‘West Kent, yes. It’s all right.
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